There is a world that only mirrors the one we call reality. It is the world of dreams, and in that place there are no boundaries. Over the past two weeks, I have felt something akin to a profound sense of freedom as I slept – or, perhaps more accurately, I have realized upon waking the freedom that I had been feeling. As much I force myself to eschew escapism, it is a rather contented feeling with which to awaken.
A few nights ago, I dreamed that I was eating a Snickers candy bar. Actually, I dreamed that I was gumming small pieces of a Snickers candy bar. This snippet of dreamscape interests me for two reasons. First, I don’t particularly care for Snickers; perhaps this would change if I had more anything other than a vague distrust of nougat. Seriously, who can trust something called nougat? Second, I was gumming the candy. This dream occurred Wednesday night / Thursday morning, so this answers – to a certain extent – a question I posed myself earlier regarding how long it would take for my residual self-image to begin to wear off. Apparently, the answer was two weeks. In the dream, I was not displeased that I lacked the teeth to masticate the sugary delectable properly; quite the contrary, I was relishing the experience. In the waking world, however, it does occur to me that, in addition to the mystery of nougat, Snickers does contain the non-mystery known as the peanut. With my current dental status, there is virtually no manner in which I could safely consume an ordinary peanut. The logical part of my brain contends that the candy bar was actually a Milky Way, yet I distinctly remember the packaging.
The next night I had a wildly dissimilar dream – to the best of my recollection, it contained no images of culinary endeavors at all. In this dream, I was participating in the San Diego Rollerblading Marathon. Does such a spectacle even exist, you may ask. Truth be told, I have no idea. I have visited San Diego fewer than a half-dozen times in my life; honestly, I can only remember three instances, but there may have been a few more. I do not recall ever hearing about a marathon on rollerblades in any city, much less in one on the other side of the country. The interesting points of this dream are many. I haven’t worn rollerblades in at least fifteen years, perhaps twenty. I have never competed in a marathon, and it certainly would (excellent for skating, yes?) that wound its way through foothills and desert terrain; there were mountains looming ahead as we raced. I could taste the dirt in my mouth; I could feel the burn in my legs. Yet for all the pain, the sensation of flying across the ground was breathtaking.
I have also noticed since returning home that it is very easy for me to drift into a semi-conscious state where the line between reality and dreams blur. If I simply sit back and close my eyes, it takes fewer than five minutes for any sensory processes to be rerouted to into a dream-like state. One might compare it to a daydream on steroids (though, in all honesty, a daydream on hydrocodone is more accurate). The ability to blur casually the line between reality and fantasy has become most interesting to me; it’s like living in a safer version of Flatliners, one that has a bit of The Neverending Story mixed in (tell me that isn’t a screwed up combination). I have found that the images that dance through my mind are actually quite inspiring in a creative way. Since I have been writing so much lately, I see my characters and hear their voices. Perhaps one day soon I’ll will myself into a conversation with some of them; that would be helpful, I’m sure.
As the interesting dreams continue, I’ll continue to share them. If I discern any meaning to them, I’ll share that, too. Otherwise, as long as you promise to bear in mind that “sometimes a cigar is just a cigar,” make of them what you will.
Until next time, take care of each other.
