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Following on from my earlier post in which I mentioned a vaguely odd invention of my half-sleeping sleeping mind on Friday last (http://caddyman.livejournal.com/741995.html), I have had occasion to give more thought to the roiling of my subconscious mind.
I rarely remember my dreams: unlike some people who know they have vivid dreams every night and can recall them in detail, this only happens occasionally for me. Most mornings I wake up and my last memory is either of the clock face just before I dozed off, or the clock face at about 4.30 in the morning when I habitually wake up to grumble about waking up. Sometimes I have anxiety dreams that follow the usual pattern of finding myself back at school or college, indulging in some inconsequential jollity with my friends when they suddenly pack up and announce that we are all due at an exam that I have no knowledge of and, unlike them, am completely unprepared for. Oh yes, that’s cropped up a few times with only minor variations, though less frequently as time goes on.
Sometimes I get anxiety dreams involving the house I grew up in and inevitably something nasty is happening to it; some disaster or something. That’s pretty rare, but it has recurred within the past few years.
There are, of course, the full blown nightmares that leave the anxiety dreams in the shade. I am happy to report that these are even rarer, and sometimes they are quite laughable to my conscious mind, though in the dream state they clearly say something to my subconscious that it really doesn’t like. Sometimes they are scary to my conscious mind, too and those are the ones that have me getting out of bed to play with the computer and have a hot chocolate or something, to give my inner demons time to recede.
Between times, however, as I say, anything that happens in my sleeping mind doesn’t intrude on my memory at all and the dreams are forgotten before I wake up.
There is, however, a further category of dream that leaks through from time to time. It may be of a type that I have every night, but of which I simply get episodic recall, a little like seeing single episodes of a soap opera months apart, where there is enough held over for you to know that it is part of a cohesive whole, but you haven’t seen enough to know the context or really how or why you are where you are. Anyway, I am beginning to wonder if I might have a consistent dream world that I only remember on occasion. This weekend I had a dream that had me searching for a portfolio of lost paintings that I was particularly proud of and which I had painted some time before. I couldn’t find them and it was most frustrating as I wanted to show them to someone else in the dream. Now the interesting thing (to me at least), is that I can remember these paintings cropping up in earlier dreams, some of them being painted, others being displayed and sometimes the pictures being packed for transit. They haven’t cropped up for a long time, but now they seem to be missing.
I wish I knew who the scriptwriter is, and maybe the director, too.
Either way, maybe I should put my analyst on danger money, Baby.
To coin a phrase.
I rarely remember my dreams: unlike some people who know they have vivid dreams every night and can recall them in detail, this only happens occasionally for me. Most mornings I wake up and my last memory is either of the clock face just before I dozed off, or the clock face at about 4.30 in the morning when I habitually wake up to grumble about waking up. Sometimes I have anxiety dreams that follow the usual pattern of finding myself back at school or college, indulging in some inconsequential jollity with my friends when they suddenly pack up and announce that we are all due at an exam that I have no knowledge of and, unlike them, am completely unprepared for. Oh yes, that’s cropped up a few times with only minor variations, though less frequently as time goes on.
Sometimes I get anxiety dreams involving the house I grew up in and inevitably something nasty is happening to it; some disaster or something. That’s pretty rare, but it has recurred within the past few years.
There are, of course, the full blown nightmares that leave the anxiety dreams in the shade. I am happy to report that these are even rarer, and sometimes they are quite laughable to my conscious mind, though in the dream state they clearly say something to my subconscious that it really doesn’t like. Sometimes they are scary to my conscious mind, too and those are the ones that have me getting out of bed to play with the computer and have a hot chocolate or something, to give my inner demons time to recede.
Between times, however, as I say, anything that happens in my sleeping mind doesn’t intrude on my memory at all and the dreams are forgotten before I wake up.
There is, however, a further category of dream that leaks through from time to time. It may be of a type that I have every night, but of which I simply get episodic recall, a little like seeing single episodes of a soap opera months apart, where there is enough held over for you to know that it is part of a cohesive whole, but you haven’t seen enough to know the context or really how or why you are where you are. Anyway, I am beginning to wonder if I might have a consistent dream world that I only remember on occasion. This weekend I had a dream that had me searching for a portfolio of lost paintings that I was particularly proud of and which I had painted some time before. I couldn’t find them and it was most frustrating as I wanted to show them to someone else in the dream. Now the interesting thing (to me at least), is that I can remember these paintings cropping up in earlier dreams, some of them being painted, others being displayed and sometimes the pictures being packed for transit. They haven’t cropped up for a long time, but now they seem to be missing.
I wish I knew who the scriptwriter is, and maybe the director, too.
Either way, maybe I should put my analyst on danger money, Baby.
To coin a phrase.