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Dicken's Dream

Dicken’s Dream

I normally – – – as normal as I can possibly be – – – do not remember my dreams. I get what appear to be the last few seconds or scenes; however, the remainder has disappeared. Maybe, instead of saying disappeared, I should say fuzzy or not all there. I know there was more, but alas, it is gone. By time breakfast is over the whole dream is forgotten. My dreams do not bother me in my waking hours. Maybe they should bother me.

They may bother a doctor who studies the psychotic; but not me.

Then, at times, something occurs during those few seconds before falling asleep. Images appear, scenes change; these are all things that I have dreamt before. And somehow, I cannot explain, I see a scene or two of previously dreamt nonsensical things; all repeated for my pleasure or displeasure. Most of them are benign although a few are a little disturbing.

Not nightmarish, just disturbing.

Some say that dreams occur in just a few seconds although they appear to encompass minutes or hours. Similarity creeps into the dreams; repetition. There is that nagging ambivalence; knowing yet not knowing what the dream was about when awakening. Yet in those times, when just prior to falling asleep, they reappear; or at least the main theme does. Otherwise I would not remember any part of a dream.

And I would not be able to write this.

Something occurred a few nights ago that pulled everything together. Yet this occurrence made no sense. No sense in either my waking or sleeping hours. The thing that pulled them all together was that my dreams always took me somewhere.

Are my waking hours just a dream? Is my life over in a few seconds? How do I know that a few seconds of waking hours did not take a lifetime to occur? Does our time in years actually take place in seconds or is our time in seconds really in years?

Is anything real?

I point to a colored wall and say it is blue. You look and the wall and agree. But is your blue exactly the same blue that I see? Or possibly what I interpret as blue is really your green.

“Oh look – – – look at the beautiful purple forest.”

Possibly it was the fresh sheets that took me to my dreaming place. I only have two sets. One is the standard red, green and grey quilt-like printed images of log cabins, a moose, a stand of pine trees and other things natural. The other set is simply a pattern of rainbow colors – – – all parallel.

That is the set that my son finds quite amusing; especially because of the scarlet colored throw.

I had just changed the sheets to the manly-man set. But enough about the sheets – – – which may or may not have had anything to do with my dreams. What I really should do is explain this series of posts.

Now – – – as I have stated many times – – – this blog was created to write about people who have been forgotten, or who never wrote about themselves, or who no one ever wrote about except for the lists of things that our government keeps; the census, birth records, tax records, last wills & testaments and such.

So, in that vein, I write about someone who nobody knows; not even me. Let’s just call him “Dreaming Wally” and leave it at that.

This series of posts will be those dreams, whose clarity is unclear, whose content is simply a framework, whose reoccurrence I cannot remember – – – yet – – – whose images were encountered just prior to falling asleep a few nights ago.

I write them now so that they would not be forgotten and lonely again.

(Posts will be published in the following days. In the meantime you may check out my books – – HERE – – if you wish.)

§©♠ w. tomosky