Memories and dreams of Humankind
The forbidden in waking life
Taboos, prohibitions, and etiquette
Constructs, boundaries, limitations, and distance
All melt away as the world fades
Come close, for distance is illusory
Draw near, let timelessness prevail
Hold me, no one knows but us
Touch me, a reality perceived but not shared
Still, a man can dream.
Jacob Haqq-Misra
Other posts by Jacob Haqq-Misra
Посмотрел на днях некий документальный фильм, исследующий феномен “вещих снов”. Фильм так себе, из пустого в порожнее, файл удалил сразу но подумал, …каково а? Долго ждать себя не заставил. Той же ночью вижу сон, сон как сон, ничего особенного(не то что тот, про Бангкокские плантации органов для сверхлюдей). Этот обычный, какие то люди, улицы, пейзажи, я хожу то там то сям с фотоаппаратом в поисках достойного кадра. Вдруг нахожу что то очень интересное, думаю скорее сфотографировать, достаю из сумки камеру, включаю, выстраиваю кадр, резкость, все дела и …………………хрен там был, батарея села. Просыпаюсь с лёгким чувством облома, ну да ладно, делаю какие то дела, книжки, кино, музыка, работа… Дело к вечеру, глядь в окно, а там красотища, индустриальный закат, красный февраль, всё горит яркими бликами солнца. По такому случаю и фотик достать не лень, думаю скорее сфотографировать, достаю из сумки камеру, включаю, выстраиваю кадр, резкость, все дела и …………………хрен там был, батарея села. …каково а? Мелочь, а приятно.
Ivan
Other posts by Ivan
hmmm…reading the post by Boris about dreams as being an eclectic product of selective memories, I remembered a couple of dreams I had a while ago. I will write them on separate occasions so as not to bore anyone with a too lengthy post.
here we go:
I was in my home town, walking on the street just outside my house towards the city centre. After a short distance I noticed a tree on the right side of the street. This tree was medium in height and emanated a white luminescence. Also, there where disproportionately big flowers on this tree which looked a bit like lotus flowers. I stopped to admire this beautiful plant, when all of a sudden the tree dissolved in a myriad of white glowing dots, as taken away by the wind. They floated in a very harmonious way for some time until some of them grew in size, became clusters of white glowing dots and eventually materialized in a small flock of white glowing birds, doves to be precise. They followed me as I walked on down the street and finally sat down on a wall to watch me pass.
I awoke from the dream with a deep sense of gratitude for the beauty I was able to witness.
I’m sure what Boris says about dreams being a product of selective memories has its truth. The street I was walking on was taken from my memories. But what about the tree and the doves? And why, if dreams are just a random mixture of memories, do some of them have a special effect on us, sometimes even seem to have a special message for us, and in rare cases strike us to have a very deep meaning, that we can ignore, acknowledge or act upon.
It’s not my intention to take anyone on a metaphysical mind-boggling trip, but maybe, just maybe, our dreams are the golden tread that connects us with something deeper in us. Something that wants to talk to us AND uses our memories to translate complex meanings into digestible bits.
What do you think?
Mezcal
Other posts by Mezcal
