I’ve always wondered where our dreams come from.
It’s really cool that while we sleep, the other half of our brains (the right side, I think) goes completely bonkers and makes up all sorts of weird things.
Just this morning I woke up feeling horrible and I always wake up remembering what I dream…for about 5 minutes before it completely dissolves in my conscious mind. And nothing’s left of it and it’s completely forgotten. (And this, folks, is why you should jump out of bed immediately to record them down)
It was only while I was going through the day that it suddenly came to me, just short scraps of the dream, but I got the general feeling of it. It was extremely uncomfortable. That was all I remembered feeling.
Our dreams are really a window to an alternate reality. Some other dimension of ourselves that we’re not supposed to be aware of living in another universe and dimension. But we’re still linked to our ‘other’ selves because…well…you just have to be linked if you’re the same person right?
I got this idea after reading Neil Gaiman’s The ocean at the end of the Lane.
What if we do actually go through some weird crazy encounters in our lives but just don’t remember them because they’ve been ‘snipped’ out of our reality?
So let’s say I have a dream about being chased by wolves in a shopping mall. What if it DID really happen but someone had just snipped it out of my memory and didn’t do a very good job of it so I remember some parts when I sleep? What if we’ve all actually met fairies and done crazy things
like flying and falling through space, and it’s just that we get these memories erased to prevent us from going crazy? And we’re all just continuing on with life not knowing anything at all.
When I dream, sometimes I dream of places I’ve never been before, places I’ve never seen. And I dream of these places over and over again. I find myself waking up
remembering a dream and thinking, “Well that was familiar!” The record I’ve had for dreaming about the same place was over 5 times. I remember it very clearly, even till now.
Some people believe in dream-reading. That dreams tell you something about your life now. If that’s true, I totally understand why I dreamt what I dreamt this morning.
When we dream, perhaps the part of our brains that make us adult-like switches off completely, and we’re in a state where anything is possible.
We don’t question what happens in dreams, no matter how weird it can be. While I’m dreaming, I really believe, at whatever point that it is happening, that everything that happens is truly happening to me.
You don’t just go into a dream and say, “Hold on, this musn’t be real how can space kangaroos exist? (or something)” You just go with the dream until you wake up and think about just how silly you were even believing that it was all real just a few seconds ago.
The dreams we have tell us a little more about who we are as people I guess.
It’s like a little window into the deepest depths of your brain, that’s why I love listening to people talk about their dreams. And why I love dreaming too.
This morning’s dream reminded me of how much of a coward I was.
Why do I always run away from things, hide from things. I don’t even know why I’m trying to hide! Or what I’m scared of, exactly. I feel like history’s repeating all over again, this time on a really minor scale. I’m not totally freaked out. Just uncomfortable.
I think I shall think about this more.