The dreams I dream

my dreams

Dreams are inexplicable animals. They have a way of affecting us, like few things can. They make sense only to us. Asleep, we are defenseless. The normal barriers that we erect around us, the rationalizations that keep us sane, collapse, come nightfall.

Being a part of civilization requires compromises on a daily basis. We play our part onstage. We laugh, sympathize, look concerned, and get angry, as per the occasion.

I sometimes get tired of all the drama. In such occasions, I read comics for a dose of reality. My personal favourite is Calvin, and his very real tiger-friend, Hobbes. I can never get enough of them. They keep it real for me. My favourite?

Image

I could never thank Bill Watterson enough. 

As a kid, I was a fan of fantasies. The Arabian Nights was televised in India back in the day, and I never missed an episode. It was the tale of Scheherazade, an unlucky woman, who had fallen prey to a lustful prince, and narrates a never-ending story that keeps the prince at bay, and infuses enough humanity into him to let her go. I’m sure the feminists frown at the story, but it never failed to captivate me.

I was a sucker for the fantastic. Who am I kidding? I still am.

I have a recurring dream. It happens in a dark cloudy day. I stand in the front of a block of apartments, thunder rumbling overhead, sky overcast, and I can see every single inhabitant. I’m privy to what they are doing inside their little cubby-holes. They have no secrets from me. I’m their lord and master. I can see them – living, breathing, loving, fighting, killing, struggling…

My dreams are a cathartic release. A way out. I remember the time I had a dream about a beautiful girl, an angel really, who’d fallen in love with me. I had a had a hard-on that lasted for a couple of hours after waking up. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why. Now I do.

My dreams tell me who I really am. They are a breeze, gently caressing me, sweeping all my troubles away. They are a storm, coming at me, telling me to stop. They are my own personal body guards. Protecting me from the sickness and the filth that I face every single day. Casting away the monotonous daily grind of my life.

Freud apparently had it all figured out. I don’t think so.

I think our dreams are deeply personal spaces. The same thing will have a vastly different impact on different individuals. A closed room can mean a different thing to me and you.

Ultimately, I honestly think that in today’s world of over-exposure, when everything is apparently out there, the only place where we can truly be ourselves is in our dreams.

Like Bill Watterson so wonderfully put it through Calvin,

“I think night time is dark so you can imagine your fears with less distraction.”

So, what do you dream about?

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18 thoughts on “The dreams I dream

  1. Really got me thinking… I remember a lot of recurring dreams I used to have as a kid. I can’t seem to recall any recent ones though. Someone once told me that when you don’t remember your dreams, it means that you were in a very deep sleep. Huh. Humans are weird – no wonder we haven’t been contacted yet.

  2. As I get older I seem to dream less and less or maybe I just remember fewer and fewer. The only dreams I can remember these days seem to be bad one. They are almost always centered around saving someone close to me, either in real life or sometimes I only know them in the dream. Each time I am on the verge of saving them from whatever doom is chasing them they are snatched away and I start over on me quest. When I was younger, I had a lot of sexy dreams filled with beautiful women who wanted to try all sorts of naughty things with me but these days those temptations are always just a way to distract me from saving those I love.
    Freud would have a field day with those and they are all pretty self-explanatory for anyone who knows me at all.
    Typing it out makes me sad that I have lost the more adventurous dreams of my youth. Which is odd, because I can honestly say that I am happier now than I was then. I think when I was younger the dreams were of what I was missing, now they are of what I want to protect and keep.
    Good post…
    -Cranky

  3. I have really vivid dreams all the time, but then I struggle to piece them together when I wake up. From what I remember, I have stressful dreams, like being chased, if I have something stressful going on in my life.

  4. just read strindberg’s A Dream Play. The whole play is as confusing as a dream. And nice work. But i miss those days when there were a slew of posts from you to look forward to? Dont let your job come in the way of your creativity.

  5. NIce post! My sister says that every person in our dreams is actually a different version of ourselves. So maybe all of the people in your apartment building are you, I heard or read somewhere that dreams are our mind’s way of processing what happend to us during the day, so that we can (hopefully) awake the next day with less stress, othewise we would go insane because we wouldn’t have that release. Am I making any sense?

    I had a lot of nightmares when I was a child but now I love dreams, they are wonderful. I sometimes wake up from dreams and am then able to go back to sleep and into that dream because I didn’t like the ending, so I try to change it. It’s pretty cool. I love lucid dreams, where you are aware that you are dreaming and can have some real fun with it.

    • Your sister may have a point. I really don’t know. Sometimes, the nightmares never stop, and sleeping becomes an act of courage for me. Sometimes, they are cathartic though. The thing is, you can’t lie when you dream. The lies you tell yourselves, disappear once you sleep. It’s the most honest voice you will ever find, that much I know.

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