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Dream Journal

We are listening to the same song

My cool dream-time tunes

I’m wearing headphones and listening to a song while walking along a familiar street. I know every verse to this song, and the addictive tune gives me a happy, albeit unintentional, skip to my step. A young woman is walking in the other direction, and as we are about to pass each other, I notice that she is mouthing the words—in time—with the song I’m hearing through my headphones.

“Wait!” I call out to the woman. I wrench a 1980’s style personal stereo—a plastic brick—from my pocket and wave it about in front of the woman. “We are listening to the same song. How cool is that?”

I don’t know if it was the sight of a madman trying to talk to her in the middle of the street, or the sight of my ancient entertainment device, but, after a second or two of obvious confusion, the woman gave me a disdainful glance and walked off. I continued on my way, muttering sarcastic rebuttals to myself.

My original earworm

I woke up, humming the tune while the lyrics echoed around inside my head; it was an original song, with a pleasant melody, and it had actually become a lively ear-worm; although, as I was about to discover, a short-lived one.

I need to write this down… I need to record myself humming the tune… Paper… Pen… Laptop… Quick, write it down… Record it!

But, like a sudden wind making the leaves on a tree take flight, the lyrics and tune flew away from me, and the memory of that dream began to crumble. In a short moment, the song had stopped playing.

Had I really created an original song from within a dream?

I’ve read about artists creating original works: music, paintings, and stories, while enabled by the freedom of a dream. Or had the song been complete gibberish; fantastic and wonderful to my dream-world ears, but no more than incoherent nonsense when I try to replay the song in my waking state.

I believe it was an original and complete song, but I will probably never know. Unless my old musical plastic brick plays again tonight.

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Dream Journal

Big guns and the piano mountain

Big Guns

I’m in a helicopter, flying over a forest landscape. I hold tight to the harness of my seat, so I don’t fall out of the open door as the helicopter rolls violently to the right. I can see that there is a battle going on down there.

About eight tanks are flattening trees and firing at another helicopter which is hovering just above the tree-line. The helicopter looks like something from a cartoon or video game, with a massive bouquet of cannons protruding from its tail and blasting away at its pursuers.

The Piano Mountain

The mountain is daunting, and the climb is very hard going, but I’m determined to make it to the top. It doesn’t strike me as peculiar that I find myself climbing a mountain which is made entirely from grand pianos. The thing that plays on my mind, as I continue to ascend, is why the mountain should be within the confines of an enormous greenhouse.

I reach up and take hold of the highly polished dark wood of the last piano, then I haul myself up. Once I am standing, triumphant on the summit, I look down to the base of the piano mountain and see a small number of people applauding my successful climb.

Categories
Dream Journal

Dancing dragons and the psychotic ex-girlfriend

The following is a dream I had when I was in my late teens and, as a heads-up, it does contain a smidgen of bad language. Although aeons ago, I can remember waking from this dream in a cold sweat and screaming out loud. As the saying goes: I have changed the names to protect the innocent. The real ex-girlfriend who made an appearance in this dream was not called ‘Sarah’, and she wasn’t a psycho in real life either. The dragons never had names, so I will just call them, umm, dragons. So, yeah, now that’s all clear as mud, here’s the dream. Enjoy!

The cliff-top that I’m walking along looks precarious

Although it would be cool if it were possible, this image was not taken from within my dream.

One misstep and I’m going to fall to my death many hundreds of feet below. I see a coastal cove down there with gently lapping waves sizzling ashore. I can also see a small island, a mile or so from the shore. There’s something swimming in the ocean out by the island… No, not one thing, but two. They’re swimming together, in an elegant dance. They are enormous creatures, with large scales and long tails… Dragons!

I’m happy and transfixed in wonderment as I watch the two dragons swim and dance together in the calm ocean.

I’m now laying on the old mattress of a rickety metal-framed bed?

There’s a strange and somewhat disturbing sound coming from another room; a low and incoherent mumbling. I look around and see that I’m alone in a dilapidated hospital ward. More beds lay scattered in various stages of decay. Paint is pealing away from the walls, like vast festering scars. The floor is covered with building and medical debris; bricks, syringes, and other indeterminable objects are all mixed together within the dirty mess.

The sound comes again, a little louder this time but still nothing more than meaningless chatter. I feel uneasy, and as the sound continues, my anxiety grows into fear.

“Hello,” I ask with a tremulous voice. “Who’s there?” The sound pauses for a brief moment, then starts up again and continues as before. “Hello,” I say again, desperately trying to keep my voice steady and calm.

The room judders, and then begins to shake. I see a vibration in the air, as if something or someone is moving around in the room, but whatever it is, it has no physical form. With wide, searching eyes I look for a means of escape. I feel something inches away from my face, but I still cannot see it. A deep, gravelly voice comes forth from the unseen and screams into my face, “Don’t fucking speak to me!” The verbal assault is followed by manic laughter.

I’m back on the path, walking along the edge of the cliff.

An old ruin appears ahead of me. It looks like a stone-age structure; a simple circular building formed from small interlocking stones. I realise that it’s actually an ancient tomb. How I know this is not clear to me, but I’m in no doubt that I am walking towards a tomb of some great age. I notice Sarah standing in the entranceway, she is wearing a wedding dress which is covered in a splattering of blood.

“Hello, Sarah,” I say as I walk towards her. For some reason I am unconcerned by all the blood.

She smiles back at me but does not reply. I turn my head to look over the cliff, and try to find the dancing dragons again. The dragons have gone, so I turn back to face Sarah. She is now upside down and floating in mid-air. She looks at me with a demented smile, then grabs hold of me and lunges towards my groin. I try to push her away and break free from her hold on me, but she is too strong. A terrifying moment later she is ripping off my manhood with jagged, razor-sharp teeth.

Thank Christ that was the point at which I woke up.

Although, I would have preferred my journey back to reality to have happened before Sarah ripped off my family jewels. As I mentioned earlier: I can still remember opening my eyes with a jolt, screaming at the top of my lungs, and covered in sweat.