Over the years I have paid attention to my dreams, sometimes more, sometimes less. I know enough about dreaming to realise that telling another person a dream is an invitation for them to see more of my inner working than I may be comfortable with , and perhaps more than I see myself at the moment. So, when I have recorded dreams they have gone into journals hidden behind lock and key or fairly robust passwords.

But on Wednesday night, and a very few will know the significance of that day, I had a dream like no other I had ever dreamed in my life.

I dreamed I saw a piece of paper, old and slightly yellowed like parchment. On it was drawn a perfect circle. 

That's it. It seemed to me to be a very long dream, but as there was no story and no characters, and no movement, who can tell? It was one of those big dreams, whose import lingers well into waking consciousness. I relay it here not as an invitation for people to guess it's meaning but as a kind of record, perhaps mostly to myself.


Anonymous said…
Dreams ! On Friday I lost something precious to me. That night I dreamed several times of someone returning something to me but not what I had lost. Each dream made me feel better until I woke. Each time I woke I realized how broken my heart was. The next day in the garden a black bird on a branch in the tree in front of me lifted one wing and pointed it in the direction behind me. The bird did this twice. I continued on the way I was going and later that day what I had lost unexpectedly appeared.
Merv said…
I understand the notion of 'blog as record'.
Without wanting to be the least bit morbid, this blog will probably (hopefully) survive you, as would a memoir. And yet it's somehow more vibrant and intimate than a memoir.
It's you.
Thank you.
Elaine Dent said…
Jacob's ladder.
Zechariah's lampstand of gold.
Ezekiel's dry bones.
Joseph's sheaves.
Jeremiah's branch of an almond tree.
Peter's sheet full of animals.

You dream and ponder in good company.
Anonymous said…
. . . and the Bishop's zero??

Katherine said…
What a coincidence.
Because I've been pondering whether to email you to ask if you had any 'comfortable words' that might help me help my son and also our best friends whose son (my son's age - 24 - they were looking for a flat together) died suddenly at home in bed at 4 am on Thursday morning...