Dreams
My dreams are always very vivid, but last night I had some real doozies. In my mind's eye this one stands out most:
I stood aboard some kind of sailing ship, a small cutter of some type, and it could fly. The ship was mine, but I was not the captain: I simply chose where it would go. The crew and officers were inconspicuously absent, in my dream. I wonder now if they were simply hidden from sight, or if the ship piloted itself.
In the dream I made several trips between the ground and a flying mountain, miles across. It hovered high in the air, suspended in nothing by nothing. I call it a flying mountain, now, but in my dream it did not move. It seemed a natural feature of the environment rather than an artificial contrivance. One side was largely hollowed out, creating a large crescent bowl with a small overhang, and inside was a vast and beautiful landscape, full of waterfalls and green things. It was as wild as an untamed forest but as peaceful and safe as a well-tended garden. I don't know if the mountain or the gardens belonged to me, but I knew I was welcome there. It's possible everybody is welcome there. On each trip, I always took a few minutes to circle the mountain and the gardens, and delight in their beauty from the air.
I remember the pleasant cool of the high altitude air and a feeling of absolute freedom. It was a very nice dream indeed.
The only other dream I now recall was particularly unusual in that it was erotic. I rarely dream about sex-- not that I can remember, anyway. I'll spare you the details other than to mention it was fairly stereotypical male fantasy fare, odd only inasmuch as I rarely fantasize about such things, or dream of them. On the whole I preferred the dream of the mountain and the ship.
I stood aboard some kind of sailing ship, a small cutter of some type, and it could fly. The ship was mine, but I was not the captain: I simply chose where it would go. The crew and officers were inconspicuously absent, in my dream. I wonder now if they were simply hidden from sight, or if the ship piloted itself.
In the dream I made several trips between the ground and a flying mountain, miles across. It hovered high in the air, suspended in nothing by nothing. I call it a flying mountain, now, but in my dream it did not move. It seemed a natural feature of the environment rather than an artificial contrivance. One side was largely hollowed out, creating a large crescent bowl with a small overhang, and inside was a vast and beautiful landscape, full of waterfalls and green things. It was as wild as an untamed forest but as peaceful and safe as a well-tended garden. I don't know if the mountain or the gardens belonged to me, but I knew I was welcome there. It's possible everybody is welcome there. On each trip, I always took a few minutes to circle the mountain and the gardens, and delight in their beauty from the air.
I remember the pleasant cool of the high altitude air and a feeling of absolute freedom. It was a very nice dream indeed.
The only other dream I now recall was particularly unusual in that it was erotic. I rarely dream about sex-- not that I can remember, anyway. I'll spare you the details other than to mention it was fairly stereotypical male fantasy fare, odd only inasmuch as I rarely fantasize about such things, or dream of them. On the whole I preferred the dream of the mountain and the ship.