How Does iT FeeL?
Dreams are such a peculiar endeavor. At night the mind is bombarded with a strange mash of mostly incomprehensible images and sound. Fleeting visions of nonsensical images and phantoms permeate the mind yet they only last for a brief moment as with the coming of the morning they are immediately forgotten.
Driven largely by emotion, so much of the dream is nonsense; incoherent imagery postulated by feeling. It merely makes sense because it feels like it make sense, it's profound merely because it feels profound, but try and explain that profound emotion to someone else and the entire dream quickly collapses and you find yourself in the strange, awkward, position of attempting to articulate gibberish. Such is the case in nearly all dreams; that is but for brief moments of clarity within the sea of rubbish. Within every hurricane lies the eye of the storm, within every drunken ramble appears brief epiphanies of truth and it was no different with the dream last night.
It began with visions of a woman passing in and out of focus, surrounded by colors, music and dancing. I was a patron sitting before her as her essence mingled with the music, colors and ambient background to present entangle vision of vibrant color. Her face rhythmically blended with the red background of her garments and stage curtains; the lights accompanied her focus as with each beat she was there, then gone, then there again - at points nearly inseparable from the vibrant backdrop.
The blending was so consistent that I nearly lost her within the ruckus of it until I hit the eye of the storm. Within the chaos, there was serenity as the vibrant blending subsided with her forward bend. As her torso propelled her body forward her face took form and began to separate from the background. Her hair blew back, her lips took form, her cheekbones rose and the minuet freckles upon her cheeks became evident as her face inched towards mine and her bright red lights slowly parted. I sat in bewilderment as I waited for what came next. She drew a deep breath and asked, "How did you feel once you have learned you are too old to have children?" Her lips folded into a soft smile as her face recoiled back and she once again molded back into the cacophony of abstract visuals.
My eyes split open. I was awake. The storm had ended. I found myself surrounded by deafening silence in an empty room.
Driven largely by emotion, so much of the dream is nonsense; incoherent imagery postulated by feeling. It merely makes sense because it feels like it make sense, it's profound merely because it feels profound, but try and explain that profound emotion to someone else and the entire dream quickly collapses and you find yourself in the strange, awkward, position of attempting to articulate gibberish. Such is the case in nearly all dreams; that is but for brief moments of clarity within the sea of rubbish. Within every hurricane lies the eye of the storm, within every drunken ramble appears brief epiphanies of truth and it was no different with the dream last night.
It began with visions of a woman passing in and out of focus, surrounded by colors, music and dancing. I was a patron sitting before her as her essence mingled with the music, colors and ambient background to present entangle vision of vibrant color. Her face rhythmically blended with the red background of her garments and stage curtains; the lights accompanied her focus as with each beat she was there, then gone, then there again - at points nearly inseparable from the vibrant backdrop.
The blending was so consistent that I nearly lost her within the ruckus of it until I hit the eye of the storm. Within the chaos, there was serenity as the vibrant blending subsided with her forward bend. As her torso propelled her body forward her face took form and began to separate from the background. Her hair blew back, her lips took form, her cheekbones rose and the minuet freckles upon her cheeks became evident as her face inched towards mine and her bright red lights slowly parted. I sat in bewilderment as I waited for what came next. She drew a deep breath and asked, "How did you feel once you have learned you are too old to have children?" Her lips folded into a soft smile as her face recoiled back and she once again molded back into the cacophony of abstract visuals.
My eyes split open. I was awake. The storm had ended. I found myself surrounded by deafening silence in an empty room.