So many night time wanderings...
I had a number of dreams last night... I will come back in a bit to flesh them out. For right now I wanted to get them started so I don't forget.
One was about being locked up in a jail cell made completely of iron bars in the middle of a filthy low ceiling room along a passage of tunnels. Those housed outside the cell were more in jail than those inside it. Inside your mind could wander and you owned your self... outside the residents were addicted to drugs and alcohol and other things and had little to no control over themselves. They could leave but had no motivation to. The family was in the cell with me, including the father of my children. I was allowed out to feed the addictions of those outside of the cell.
Another had to do with my mother in law. I'm not really sure what else was going on, but she wanted to smoke a cigarette with me and was active and happy. This is really quite odd since she has been mostly in bed for the last 20 years.
The final night time dream was about my ex having built a house. It was a conglomeration of styles, periods and materials. It was long and thin... like a diner, but longer and made of brick and concrete and wood. It was a gothic, victorian and almost alpine on the outside but laid out like a ranch on the inside. There were gargoyles, cherubs and stained glass windows and a lovely long colonial porch. Ivy grew over it in places. The concrete work was not done and was running in places... melting gargoyles and cherubs above some of the windows. The idea of the house was really unique and I liked it but the execution was poorly done.
I took a nap later in the morning and had a dream I was in a Dostoyevsky or Chekov play... I was familiar with the play and the characters in the dream, in a conscious way. The director was Christine Demerick, someone I knew a long time ago and haven't thought of in years. I had costuming with me in a bag when I arrived and walked back stage in a hurry with the thought, "I should have read this thing before today." and the director saw me pass by her office and called out, "Hey, when you get settled, let's run your lines." I felt nothing but dread and wondered why we had never run rehearsals or a dress rehearsal. The author was back stage, outraged about something else and provided a much needed distraction.
As I write this, I realize there was another dream as well... something about living in a lovely apartment with a balcony overlooking a small city and a bay, harbor or river in the middle distance. I was having a cocktail party. There was a comfortable crowd and many familiar faces.
I'll be back to figure out what these mean in a bit... baking brownies right now :)
One was about being locked up in a jail cell made completely of iron bars in the middle of a filthy low ceiling room along a passage of tunnels. Those housed outside the cell were more in jail than those inside it. Inside your mind could wander and you owned your self... outside the residents were addicted to drugs and alcohol and other things and had little to no control over themselves. They could leave but had no motivation to. The family was in the cell with me, including the father of my children. I was allowed out to feed the addictions of those outside of the cell.
Another had to do with my mother in law. I'm not really sure what else was going on, but she wanted to smoke a cigarette with me and was active and happy. This is really quite odd since she has been mostly in bed for the last 20 years.
The final night time dream was about my ex having built a house. It was a conglomeration of styles, periods and materials. It was long and thin... like a diner, but longer and made of brick and concrete and wood. It was a gothic, victorian and almost alpine on the outside but laid out like a ranch on the inside. There were gargoyles, cherubs and stained glass windows and a lovely long colonial porch. Ivy grew over it in places. The concrete work was not done and was running in places... melting gargoyles and cherubs above some of the windows. The idea of the house was really unique and I liked it but the execution was poorly done.
I took a nap later in the morning and had a dream I was in a Dostoyevsky or Chekov play... I was familiar with the play and the characters in the dream, in a conscious way. The director was Christine Demerick, someone I knew a long time ago and haven't thought of in years. I had costuming with me in a bag when I arrived and walked back stage in a hurry with the thought, "I should have read this thing before today." and the director saw me pass by her office and called out, "Hey, when you get settled, let's run your lines." I felt nothing but dread and wondered why we had never run rehearsals or a dress rehearsal. The author was back stage, outraged about something else and provided a much needed distraction.
As I write this, I realize there was another dream as well... something about living in a lovely apartment with a balcony overlooking a small city and a bay, harbor or river in the middle distance. I was having a cocktail party. There was a comfortable crowd and many familiar faces.
I'll be back to figure out what these mean in a bit... baking brownies right now :)