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.
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.
Comments
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.
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.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i7ojb9kr-8o
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...