I had another night full of vivid, real-seeming dreams last night. It began with being physically tempted by a dark skinned girl. She looked like a Maori, for some reason. The temptation was gentle and subtle, but quietly insistent. I knew I mustn’t succumb to it, and I could see that there was somebody sitting close by to ensure that I didn’t. It went on for an agony of time until she smiled sweetly and offered to make me a cup of tea!
And then I was in my kitchen and heard an unfamiliar noise. I looked down to see several mice scurrying around the floor. Soon the whole house was awash with mice, aggressive rats, thousands of insects and several birds. Two cats appeared, big white ones with black spots, and they obviously wanted to feed on the birds. I tried to save one small bird, but saw that she was so badly injured already that it was a mercy to let the cat finish her off. And it was obvious from the way the cats were looking at me that they hated me with a vengeance.
The scene changed to a bedsit I’d moved into, and another woman appeared from nowhere. She was middle aged and unfamiliar to me. She had blonde, permed hair which I disliked, and was occupying a bed on the other side of the room. She told me that I had to change my habits to accord with her requirements. From now on I was to live by her rules, not mine.
Suddenly I was back in my own house again, and two visitors were arriving. One was a woman my dreaming self knew, and she’d brought with her the love of my life, a woman I’d never met. I was curious to see what she looked like and peered into her face. It looked a little different than I expected, less Oriental, but that didn’t matter. What confused me was that she didn’t know it was my house she was visiting; she didn’t know who I was. So I started to hint, at which point she smiled mockingly and told me she wasn’t that person at all. It was a case of mistaken identity.
They both drove away in a car, and I left too. I found myself walking alone in some mountains somewhere, feeling lost.
I woke up exhausted, with knots tightening in my midriff. I was briefly relieved that everything had been just a dream, but I soon realised there was more to it. These weren’t just dreams; they were pictures from my current reality. This isn’t quite the darkest time of my life – not yet, anyway – but it’s dark enough, and it’s swimming with a complex range of debilitating disturbances. Something has to change so that I can start functioning again.
2 comments:
Hmm. Interesting. Dreams are often more help than we like to admit.
But do they tell us the truth or merely refrlect our fears?
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