On Dreaming (#18)

https://www.theartstory.org/artist/hammershoi-vilhelm/
I shouldn't be afraid to open up doors. Read on to find out more.

If you have been reading my blog since the beginning, you know that my dreams are frequently lucid and vivid. Some are dark and disturbing, while others are funny and absurd. All of them I find fascinating, and that is why I keep a dream journal.

Unfortunately, not all the dreams make it in there. Between the dreaming and my journaling, I have forgotten as many as I have remembered. On occasion, upon waking from a particularly powerful dream, I will take notes using my phone. However, most of the time I avoid that task, because falling back to sleep becomes a struggle.

Sometimes, when I have lucid, vivid dreams, I can recollect having them, but it is the details I cannot recall. And, yes, I mention that in my journal: "Last night I had a vivid dream, unfortunately, I cannot remember any details" or "I had dream, but all that I remember was that I was naked".  

Yet, there are times when I fail to dream at all. When these moments cluster together, I call them droughts. For me, lucid, vivid dreaming is another tool for analyzing my emotions concerning people, events, and ideas in my life. Even the bad, disturbing ones. So, when I am deprived of the experience for a long period of time, or I forget too many details, I feel an emptiness. The past few months, I have suffered quite a few dry spells and memory gaps.

Then, like a monsoon, the dreams flood back into my mind. Despite the overwhelming emotional force that washes over me, I am grateful for their return. Prior to last week, I was suffering one such drought. And then, beginning last Monday, the first of a four dreams arrived, the last two occurring these past two nights.

For brevity, I am only going to share the last one. Also, last night's dream contrasts well with the last dream I shared on this blog. That one was long, complicated, and disturbing. It involved one of my two daughters. This one was short, direct, and intense. My other daughter was in it.

One last thought before I describe it. I should have just opened the door.

It was at night. My daughter and I were standing in a room with a door that led outside. The walls seemed fake, like we were standing on a set of a television show. It even felt like a wall was missing. Except for the two of us and the door, the space was empty, and the walls were painted a maroon color, but otherwise bare. My memory of the dream begins with me already against the door, and the sense that something, or someone, was trying to enter. My daughter was at arms length, and right behind me. I do not know if I was keeping her back, or if she was hesitant to move closer. However, I do recall struggling to keep the door closed, and unable to lock it shut. At least twice, the door opened enough for me to see a dark mass on the other side. Each time, I fumbled for the door handle, and pushed my weight against the door. Then, just before waking up, I clearly remember standing there at the door, taking a step back, and thinking, "Maybe I should just let it in."