strange dreams
Fri, November 20, 2009 at 9:00AM I don't give much credence to dream interpretation anymore; i used to keep a journal of them in my younger more impressionable days. (Along with the pyramid under the bed and the crystals in the windows...) Everything was fraught with meaning and angst, and surely the meaning being interpreted would better my days. But, you know what? It took a lot of time to write all that dribbly personal "symbolism" down and most of the time it made no sense whichever way i "analyzed" it, Freudian, Jungian, Feminismian (i made that up), or Looney Toons. Dreams are simply the brain's way of processing the day's events.
Yeah sure, there's some recurring themes, or icons, but for the most part, little packets of information are just travelling along the synaptic conveyor belt looking for their spot in the big ol' brain warehouse. I know the zombies, 11tybazillion cats, sons drowning and unassisted flights are random stray thoughts being compressed into running files that don't really affect anything, but if they're not "saved", or god forbid they are deleted, all hell would break loose in the psyche.
That being said, dreams are a great way to come up with ideas or develop them or see those recurring themes and icons in an uninhibited way. For years, i had the same dream over and over about a large floating blue lady--that worked in eventually into one of my Hoodoo pieces, still a work in SLOW progress. The body series is a ubiquitous niggle in my vasty head also.
Last night i dreamed that everywhere i went there were holes underneath---under floors, down through the corners of rooms, under cars, tunnels within tunnels and underpasses, narrow apertures that led into cavernous rooms and cathedrals. Everything was white, dusted with white, crumbling and falling into itself making the holes bigger and more apparent on the surface.
How the hell does this all compute? What am i supposed to be Making from that???? The daytime/waking subconscious is working, downloading and filing...........
arlee |
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