WANTING TO BELIEVE
On the farm, at five, I remember
both realising and regretting
that no one else could share
my experience, that each of us
is separate. I still regret it.
As a youth, at bedtime, I would
sometimes hold one arm up
in the air for minutes. Any
involuntary movement of my arm
might be by God.
One day while in college I
had a flash, a “knowing” that we
are all together in our dreams.
Hungry for connection, I still hope
for something to be true.
Nan March 2022
The only positive thing I can think of that has come from the self-quarantine resulting from the pandemic–besides my son and I talking long distance every day–is that I’ve availed myself of the habit of waking up thinking.That is, I just lay there and think. This morning I knew I’d had a good-feeling dream but it had disappeared. I tried the process of free association to the images that came to me, and by “free associating” via images to my images I got back to my dream, which was a good one. More anon about thoughts that came to me after coffee.
I wanted feed
back from my dreams last night so I “incubated” a dream, adding hypnogogic and hypnopompic thoughts and images (the going to sleep and waking up periods) to my focus. And I think I dreamed all night–during, before and after. But I learned that no matter how motivated, I could not record my dreams with my eyes closed, or even open while still lying down and not re-arranging myself in bed.
Day residues are easiest to recall, & the lone motorcycle in my condo’s otherwise empty parking lot (Thanksgiving, you know) clearly re-appeared in a fragment about a family next door not permitting a motorcycle to park in our own driveway.
The other dreams were fruitful, I could tell, but too many to fully record any. I do remember hearing the sound of scissors cutting. What I learned is that I must get new batteries for my old voice recorder if I want to really get serious about dreamsploring.
Random Ramblings and Reviews from Trent P. McDonald
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