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Bittersweet
I had the most interesting dream. Since I'm wide awake now and can't fall back asleep, I thought I'd write it down.
My beloved dog died last fall. She was not by any means the first pet I've had (or even the only pet I've had since) but she was the only animal I've ever really, truly loved, and it's taken me this long to consider getting another dog. The last few days I've been looking at puppies in the paper and at the pound. There's a litter of puppies at the pound right now that are really, seriously tempting, but I've been holding off, mostly because they're a very different breed from Frisky and I'm not sure if I'd enjoy owning a different breed.
So, my dream was just your basic dream -- running around and doing stuff that doesn't really make a whole lot of sense. And Frisky was there, just kind of there, trotting around after me like always. I remember thinking in the dream that her death had all been a horrible mistake (which was sort of what it was in real life, anyway). However, the funny thing in the dream is that she couldn't go home with me. In order to get home from the rest of the dream, you had to go through this wide grassy place with a hill, and from that hill two paths led away: one to my house off to the west, which I could see quite easily, and the other off to some mountains to the east. The color in the east was just exactly that combination of blue winter sky and morning gold that I've always loved -- it's hard to describe, but I've never seen it anywhere but Alaska, and the first time I saw it after moving back this fall, I knew for sure I'd come home.
I kept trying to get Frisky to follow me down the west path, but she wouldn't go off the hill. She could, and would, go back the other way with me -- back into the storyline of the dream. But she wouldn't go past the hill, though she was very apologetic about it. And I finally realized that she couldn't go west with me. The east path was the path she had to go on, and I couldn't go that way any more than she could go my way.
As soon as I understood this, I woke up.
I've never really quite known what to believe about dreams -- if they're always just random neurons firing in the brain, or if sometimes your subconscious is trying to tell you things your conscious brain doesn't comprehend, or if sometimes they're even more than that. In any case, I think it's okay to get another dog, as soon as those puppies are available for adoption.
And ... this may be silly, but I have to write it down anyway. I hope she knows it's okay to go on east without me.
My beloved dog died last fall. She was not by any means the first pet I've had (or even the only pet I've had since) but she was the only animal I've ever really, truly loved, and it's taken me this long to consider getting another dog. The last few days I've been looking at puppies in the paper and at the pound. There's a litter of puppies at the pound right now that are really, seriously tempting, but I've been holding off, mostly because they're a very different breed from Frisky and I'm not sure if I'd enjoy owning a different breed.
So, my dream was just your basic dream -- running around and doing stuff that doesn't really make a whole lot of sense. And Frisky was there, just kind of there, trotting around after me like always. I remember thinking in the dream that her death had all been a horrible mistake (which was sort of what it was in real life, anyway). However, the funny thing in the dream is that she couldn't go home with me. In order to get home from the rest of the dream, you had to go through this wide grassy place with a hill, and from that hill two paths led away: one to my house off to the west, which I could see quite easily, and the other off to some mountains to the east. The color in the east was just exactly that combination of blue winter sky and morning gold that I've always loved -- it's hard to describe, but I've never seen it anywhere but Alaska, and the first time I saw it after moving back this fall, I knew for sure I'd come home.
I kept trying to get Frisky to follow me down the west path, but she wouldn't go off the hill. She could, and would, go back the other way with me -- back into the storyline of the dream. But she wouldn't go past the hill, though she was very apologetic about it. And I finally realized that she couldn't go west with me. The east path was the path she had to go on, and I couldn't go that way any more than she could go my way.
As soon as I understood this, I woke up.
I've never really quite known what to believe about dreams -- if they're always just random neurons firing in the brain, or if sometimes your subconscious is trying to tell you things your conscious brain doesn't comprehend, or if sometimes they're even more than that. In any case, I think it's okay to get another dog, as soon as those puppies are available for adoption.
And ... this may be silly, but I have to write it down anyway. I hope she knows it's okay to go on east without me.
no subject
Aw!
And you have way cooler/more sane dreams than I do.
Jane
Re: Aw!
And I'm at work too ...
But thanks. Though I'm not sure if dreaming about dead dogs in the afterlife precisely qualifies as "sane".
Insane dreams
The last dream that I remember (Saturday Night/Sunday AM) involved me and Virus having to go down seven layers of secret subbasements in the U of M Student Union so that we could get to the secret chamber of the Twenty-four Tiny Buddhas. We fed them a plate of cookies we'd brought with us, and they rejoiced. And granted us each an object from their chamber, like Galadriel. I chose soap, that when you washed with it would make you invisible.
And that was one of the more, erm, normal ones.
Janer
no subject
(Anonymous) 2004-09-21 05:49 pm (UTC)(link)That's a cool dream, Layla. I've developed a bit of a reputation for having weird dreams, although they're usually more random, like Janer's, than symbolic like yours.
Examples? Well, there was the one where I was a Road Warrior type going car shopping. I'd just settled on the one with the Vulcan-style miniguns when the dealership came under attack. That's when I woke up, so I never found out who was attcking.
Then there's the one that's best described as 'Me and Jesse Jackson: paranormal investigators.'
no subject
Then I start trying to recall the details, and stage two begins as I realize that the whole friggin' thing didn't make any SENSE. This is followed by stage 3 where I start thinking something like: "Well, if I take out the whole thing with the poodle stampede and come up with a really good reason why I would suddenly turn into a talking carrot, that would STILL make a really good story..."
Which is why writers go insane.
My sister has an interesting talent: she can control her dreams. She is the only person I've met who can do this, although I've heard that some odd percentage of the population can do it. She says that she is aware that she is dreaming and can specifically add and subtract things from the dream to get it to follow her design. It's like having her own personal VR program, or at least that's what it sounds like to me. Wish I could do that.