I seem to be somewhat predisposed to recurrent dreams. At last count, I've visited eleven distinct dreamtimes on repeated occasions. Sometimes the interval was as short as a few days; sometimes as long as several years. Sometimes the dream was exactly as last time; sometimes many variations introduced themselves.
One dream started happening early in college. I'd visit this strange Art Deco-ish house in the middle of the woods, obstensibly to visit a friend. The house turned out to be a museum of sorts -- its different rooms filled with the various future histories of various entertainments I'd enjoyed (a library filled with books my favorite authors had never gotten around to writing; a gallery with new paintings by artists long since dead; a game room over filled with games I'd wished had been made for the NES; etc). Inside the house was the most interesting young woman; she loved much of what I loved but loved it in ways that were completely different from mine own. Much of the dream consisted of discussions that, of course, couldn't be remembered when I woke up.
Towards the end of the dream, the woman and I went out into the woods where some sort of party had started. I never remember the party beyond being surrounded by the woods and grooving to the music.
There was an almost inexpressible sadness when I finally woke up. I longed for the connection with that young woman, for the discussions of entertainments that didn't exist.
The dream had repeated four times since the first. Always the dream was followed by the sadness of leaving that dreamtime.
Last night I had the dream again. It'd changed, though. The young woman's parents were in the house, and they were quite cool. Most interesting, though, was that most of the woods had been cut down and behind the house some building was being constructed. There was no party in the woods this time. Instead, the dream ended with my arm around the young woman's waist, her parents smiling at us, and me gazing out at the skeleton of some massive building through a picture window.
And, again, there was sadness when I woke in my bed.
One dream started happening early in college. I'd visit this strange Art Deco-ish house in the middle of the woods, obstensibly to visit a friend. The house turned out to be a museum of sorts -- its different rooms filled with the various future histories of various entertainments I'd enjoyed (a library filled with books my favorite authors had never gotten around to writing; a gallery with new paintings by artists long since dead; a game room over filled with games I'd wished had been made for the NES; etc). Inside the house was the most interesting young woman; she loved much of what I loved but loved it in ways that were completely different from mine own. Much of the dream consisted of discussions that, of course, couldn't be remembered when I woke up.
Towards the end of the dream, the woman and I went out into the woods where some sort of party had started. I never remember the party beyond being surrounded by the woods and grooving to the music.
There was an almost inexpressible sadness when I finally woke up. I longed for the connection with that young woman, for the discussions of entertainments that didn't exist.
The dream had repeated four times since the first. Always the dream was followed by the sadness of leaving that dreamtime.
Last night I had the dream again. It'd changed, though. The young woman's parents were in the house, and they were quite cool. Most interesting, though, was that most of the woods had been cut down and behind the house some building was being constructed. There was no party in the woods this time. Instead, the dream ended with my arm around the young woman's waist, her parents smiling at us, and me gazing out at the skeleton of some massive building through a picture window.
And, again, there was sadness when I woke in my bed.
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I had a dream once, and during, I could swear I felt the suffication of absolute love...the catch is, the eyes I gazed into were the eyes of Carrot Top, after he did a hang glid down to me while I was lost in the woods. Interesting or uneasy, I sure do love the woods. I was silent after waking up