After seeing Inception a bunch of times, I got more interested in dreaming, as I'm sure everyone else did. Figuring that inducing lucid dreaming wasn't particularly likely, though it would be inceptionally (see what I did there?) cool, I have taken it upon myself to actively try and recall my dreams following my waking, and failing that, to write down the few incoherent fragments that are there.
Here is an example, fresh from my cahier. It begins in a doctor's office. He is, for some reason, cheerily telling me that my bum is now made of molten rock. No wait, I just remembered that he found out by accident, and I was doing a medical examination in the first place. Yes! All my friends were there. How strange.
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| This can't be what you had in mind, Martin Luther. |
Yes, back to the main event. An ass made of liquid rock, as it were. As I sit hunched in a decidedly shitting position over some sort of x-ray machine, I gasp as my bum is highlighted with pulsing yellow goo. What a tragedy- I could weep, and possibly do.
My parents try to console me. My sister tells me, "harden up Will, it's not that bad." She of course, doesn't know the severe implications of this burden yet- and neither do I.
It's bees. Bees are attracted to my bum. Just to remind you, the premise of this dream is that my bum is made of molten rock, and now serves as bee-nip. In my desperation in the doctor's office, I suggest cutting the rock out. But no, he tells me, "that would risk thousands of swarming bees!" Great. At home, the bees are a constant presence. They come in twos, threes, but don't appear to want to sting. Thank god I'm not Sami/Nick/Luke. But I cower all the same, and refuse to sleep in my bedroom, with its freshly formed hive above my pikachu.
The dream gets hazier after this. I only know that I somehow become desensitised to the bees, which seems to me as implausible as the bum thing. The dream progresses...
Now me and a few friends are at my school, Burnside, skating. This while the annual Year 9 Dance is taking place. Also, I am a boarder at the school, despite them not offering this as an option. The bouncer has confiscated my deck, and I am forced to improvise. Finding a stick of fair length, and deeming it worthy, it set about creating my new longboard.
I don't profess to being especially handy, but somehow, this board materialises, even though I only recall playing with those plastic bands that can only tighten and never loosen. We called them Chinese finger traps.
This is where I woke up, at 10:38am. The dream took place between 7am and then- i.e. my second bout of sleeping that night. My friend Simon once noticed this phenomenon, and he was dead right. In trying to decode the dream's meaning, I like to think back to my time playing a forest folk in my Intermediate school's rendition of A Midsummer Night's Dream, and the lines we sing:
In dreams, things are never what they seem.
No one knows just what it means.
In dreams...
I think there's a tear in my eye. How poetic..
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