Waking dream
Last night while reading Becoming Animal in bed I had a strange, unfamiliar experience. The chapter made sense, but at a certain moment I recalled an earlier paragraph that seemed completely unrelated to the subject. I reviewed the previous page, couldn't find the bizarre passage, concluded it must have come earlier, and decided to read on.
A few minutes later, it happened again. This time, just as I finished reading a paragraph, I had the feeling it did not fit. I reread it. It was gone. At least, the unusual paragraph I remembered reading had vanished, replaced by something that made sense.
Then I realized the lost paragraph had told a story about me. That made no sense. I couldn't be in the book. I must have dreamt it, but I was not asleep. I was not even drowsy. I often become sleepy while reading in bed, but on such occasions I lose focus and begin rereading sentences because I can't absorb their meaning. During this experience I was alert and could easily comprehend the meaning on the page, however my mind had layered another unrelated story overtop.
The actual passage in the book employed intense imagery to describe a lake as the sun fell behind a nearby mountain. The landscape moved from light into shadow. My mind's eye could see it clearly. I believe this must have opened a threshold in my brain as it prepared for sleep, allowing me to experience a waking dream.
The vision of my dream appeared written on the page. "Cosima visited my apartment, intent on finding something. I helped her look through some boxes." I could see Cosima: a young woman with white hair. Despite the unusual name, she seemed to be my grandmother, Fern Waffle, or Constanze Mozart as she appeared in Amadeus, or most likely the white-haired Kimberly Ford in Guy Gavriel Kay's Fionavar Tapestry. The passage went on another sentence or two. Cosima led me bodily through the boxes as though they were small chambers on the wall of my apartment. I experienced it all as a narrative printed on the page.
Then I was fully awake, trying to find the passage so I could reread it. When I realized what had happened, I was surprised but not upset. Should I go to sleep? Wanting to finish the chapter I flipped ahead to see how much longer: three more pages. So I read to the end without further adventure.
I must have had two of them, but can't remember the content of the first dream. I am extremely curious: has anyone experienced anything like it? It was like a hallucination (I suppose, because I have never hallucinated before), all within the context of reading a book. I believe it happened because my mind was preparing to sleep and dream.
Something strange is afoot with my psyche. Recently, symptoms of incipient depression have plagued the mornings. Today I couldn't get going. I used the light box but that will take a few days to make much difference. I stayed home from work, taking things hour by hour, hoping the relaxation would help me feel well enough to go in for a while. By mid-afternoon I was so distressed even computer games did not distract me. Finally, I lay down on the couch with Becoming Animal and read two chapters. That was better. I became drowsy (extremely unusual during the day), closed my eyes and dozed off several times, but a mini panic attack prevented me from falling asleep each time. Remembering the strange dream last night, I got up and wrote this. Now I feel fine.
When I phoned Danny this morning, he wondered whether the distress relates to changes in my sleep pattern. My suspicions agree.
I have begun to get more sleep. Relieved of the stress of persistent, marginal exhaustion, my emotions collapse. Does that makes any sense? Other, nameless things erupt underneath. I feel intense lassitude, grief and resistance, mingled with creeping panic because I can't afford sick time.