Dream Coaching (A Ponderous Ramble)

Today a friend of mine interjected our conversation to say that something I said reminded him of his dream last night. I dropped everything and asked if he would be willing to write it down. He meant to start a dream journal, but had never tried. I offered to prompt him through the process, should he be comfortable with the idea of sharing with me.

It blossomed into an interesting gambit of quick-tips as he scribbled fragments of an almost-lost dream. I focused on just getting an outline of the dream rather than trying to create a narrative. I asked general questions about the environment and company, “were you inside or outside?” “was there a crowd of people or a just a few.” With a couple of jumpstarts he was able to remember facts about the dream that he hadn’t originally recalled in our initial conversation.

I tried to stress the need to move forward with the narrative rather than get jammed up on the little details. If an action or character in the dream has you stumped then just note it quickly and move on. As his ideas slowed down, I asked him to draw any vivid images (stick figures allowed) to give him something to look back on. My friend said it was a very useful experience and I wondered if I could recreate it for others.

I like the idea of developing a coaching regiment for dream journaling. I think people would enjoy a lecture on the subject of dream recollection. Would you attend? What tips do you think are important for inexperienced journal keepers?

Dream on Little Dreamers,

EB

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Dreaming of Dead Ends

Sometimes I put myself under an enormous amount of pressure to succeed. It’s a good trait to have, but the stale sense of doom that whips it into motion can be oppressive.

Lately I’ve been dreaming of, you guessed it, dead ends. The sort that keep sleeping-me confused in blobby dark places and waking-me feeling like I haven’t taken a breath in minutes. The imagery I can gather from my journals is a bit gruesome:

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I remember sitting in a barber’s chair getting a haircut by a large foreign man. I was distressed because I knew I had already received a haircut recently and didn’t want him to botch it. He told me I had to stay for the shave but I complained I had no time, there was work to be done. I left only to be chased through a dark mall by zombies. Circling around the building, I found myself at the barber again just in time to see him use his blade to cut the scalp off his next customer. I was validated in my earlier fears, but also resigned to my doom to zombies and apparently Sweeney Todd. 

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For the most part I’m struggling to remember the fine details of these dead-end dreams. It’s frustrating to know how self-perpetuating these kinds of dreams can be. But I’ll be out of this dreary period soon. Earlier today I had a dream with vibrant color and if that’s not a blessed sign I don’t know what is.

It can be hard for me to post in this blog when I’m not recalling my dreams as well. However, I fully intend to be the pondering hub for all your wiggly dream things. I’d like to thank my small community of followers, every ‘like’ and ‘view’ encourages me incredibly.

Dream on little dreamers,

EB

Bittersweet Sigh of a Forgotten Dream

Awakened quickly to ringing tones

I set myself to this day’s home

Traffic hums – the beasts’ moan

Listening to my mind of stones

I feel so close and yet so vague

A woman there, I think, a shade?

Time’s too finite here.

Car door opened, no longer alone

solid things needing to be known.

On desk-like parapet I note a peer…

There were eyes like that one’s

with star mist gaze like talons.

I shook it off, not in this world.

Despite myself, no dream unfurled.