(no subject)
I've decided to try to record my dreams. I've found that I have a hard time being creative when I want to be -- ie, no "drawing time.. now!". When I wake up, however, I tend to have fading memories of crazy dreams, and I reckon that my brain's a lot more creative when I'm not forcing it to be.
I put a notepad and a pen by my bed this morning before I fell asleep. I have a habit of tossing and turning about twice a night, and tend to wake up very slightly during this period -- I'll still be immersed in whatever dream it may be, but I'll gain a bit of consciousness, such as noting the time on my alarm clock, or realizing a cat had been sleeping on my face and wiping the cathair off my nose. I'd use these moments of consciousness to record my dreams.
I had mixed results when I woke up this afternoon. First off, my notepad only had two phrases scrawled on it:
"It is a tale of Intergalactic Rejection"
"so it was."
And so, apparently, it was. These have no relation to the dream that I woke up remembering, though, which involved myself and my family flying from Russia to the US in a Concorde jet. It was a rather luxurious jet, and a smooth and quick flight. Arriving in the US, it seems my passport had disappeared, and I was detained by Customs and held in a small room with a 2-way mirror. I was interrogated by a lovely young woman who kept showing her cleavage. She was joined later by another young woman and they got into a fight over my situation. I woke up before I was released. The holding room was cold.
I'll keep the notepad by my bed for future sleeps. Perhaps I'll get enough random strings that I can create a Hockney-esque song of surreality.
I put a notepad and a pen by my bed this morning before I fell asleep. I have a habit of tossing and turning about twice a night, and tend to wake up very slightly during this period -- I'll still be immersed in whatever dream it may be, but I'll gain a bit of consciousness, such as noting the time on my alarm clock, or realizing a cat had been sleeping on my face and wiping the cathair off my nose. I'd use these moments of consciousness to record my dreams.
I had mixed results when I woke up this afternoon. First off, my notepad only had two phrases scrawled on it:
"It is a tale of Intergalactic Rejection"
"so it was."
And so, apparently, it was. These have no relation to the dream that I woke up remembering, though, which involved myself and my family flying from Russia to the US in a Concorde jet. It was a rather luxurious jet, and a smooth and quick flight. Arriving in the US, it seems my passport had disappeared, and I was detained by Customs and held in a small room with a 2-way mirror. I was interrogated by a lovely young woman who kept showing her cleavage. She was joined later by another young woman and they got into a fight over my situation. I woke up before I was released. The holding room was cold.
I'll keep the notepad by my bed for future sleeps. Perhaps I'll get enough random strings that I can create a Hockney-esque song of surreality.