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August 23, 2011

i am so fascinated with the idea of dreams and dreaming. i like talking to other people about their dreams, and if they ever sleptwalk or had night terrors as a child, or if they still have those things to this day.


i had never before really made the connection between dreams and writing. but once i started to write more at night, i started to dream more at night. because my brain was racing, or something. and lately i’ve discovered podcasts (yes, im a luddite. i know) and i’ve been listening to shrink rap radio, which is a psychology podcast in which a psychologist interviews other psychoanalysts/psychiatrists/neurologists/hypnotherapists/therapists/psychologists whatever. some of it is too fluffy and not informative enough for my liking (don’t even bother listening to the podcast on nightmares) but some is amazing (the podcast on the criminal mind with stanton samenow). anyway, the podcast really talks about dreams and freud and jungian processes and how dreams are related to the creative mind. and what dreams mean.


and so, since dreams are related to creativity, which is related to my writing. and i’ve always been a troubled sleeper (sleep talking, night sweats, insomnia) which i think has added to the intensity and lucidity of my dreams. so i’m going to be writing them down here – part of this is so that i can remember them.


last night i dreamed that i was living in a community made up of mainly first nations people. this isn’t the first time i’ve had this dream, and it varies from dream to dream – sometimes i really like my surroundings and where i’m living, and sometimes i’m distressed at the degree of isolation – as in… environmental isolation. a city far away from others, accessible only by remote routes. last night i was pretty damn happy. i wish i could tell you where i was, exactly, because using the term “first nations” is too vague, and i’m sure that i knew in my dream where i was living and who i was living with… and i was walking through a grocery store. i remember that.

and then i was climbing down a rock face of a crag. with a white couple who had a baby in a carrier on their back. and we were free climbing – one slip and  that was curtains for us. and the scenery around us was very very beautiful, like the scenery i saw in northern ireland  and donegal – craggy and green and dire and towering and good. but then the husband (who was wearing the baby) started to falter, and the wife started to scream at me climb down faster, climb down faster – he’s going to fall if you don’t hurry up and then my baby is going to die. so i tried to climb down faster. and then i woke up.

i don’t know if we were trying to get away from the town i had been living in. it didn’t feel that way. i remember being happy there – or at least thinking i was happy. being in the grocery store made me happy. i was shopping for novelties or something.


who knows where that dream came from. i was reading scud the disposable assassin before i fell asleep – that wasn’t in the dream. and i had been looking at pictures of burning man all day – that wasn’t in the dream either. i had a psychic tell me once that i was supposed to look in first nations retreats – when i worked in northern ontario, i wondered if that would be related to the cree. now that i’m here in vancouver, sometimes i wonder if that is related to … well, things or people or land i haven’t discovered yet.

it’s all very connected, somehow, these dreams. more to come.

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