- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1246
"In Xanadu did Kubla KhanA stately pleasure-dome decree :
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea."
More interesting dreams, other people's dreams. In this case, Kubla Khan, a poem written by Samuel Taylor Coleridge - or, more accurately, a fragment of a poem, having emerged from an opium induced slumber he was filled with inspiration and upon writing down the poem found himself interrupted by a persistent traveling salesperson; the dream was lost and he only ever recaptured fragments.
Link: Wiki on Kubla Khan
Link: online-literature - complete poem
Note the ending: "For he on honey-dew hath fed, and drunk the milk of paradise..."
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1273
As my dreams have been a bit of a bust lately (today, after my nap, a classic waiter's nightmare: At the restaurant, tables keep coming in and I can't keep up, there are different rooms and every time I discover a different room I discover even more tables I have to get to and visit....and when I'm visiting them, I fall asleep....) I've thought to enclose somebody elses.
Tartini's "The Devil's Trill"
Link: Wikipedia
Link: YouTube
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1282
I'm with my children, the boy and the girl, and we're going home. It's a grey day, featureless, the boy is walking with us just out of reach, the girl, she's clinging to me, she's sad and crying.
There's a long row of condominium / townhouses, they vary in size and shape but they're all connected. I live somewhere in there, but I'm not sure exactly where, and we climb a flight of stairs to this covered "subway" type platform and she's there. It's her, only she's exaggerated in limbs, extra thin, long, long legs and arms, a slender torso, she's wearing a short skirt and a corset and a Venetian half mask and she's come to surprise me, she's wearing a wide, toothy smile like you might imagine the joker to be wearing....
When she sees us she laughs lightly and runs away down the stairs on the other side, laughs like a Japanese Geisha, then she returns and follows me, talking, prattling. The children don't recognize her, but my daughter is clingy, sad, holding on to my side. She's lost the mask and is prattling to me, talking, trying to make plans for a rendezvous, right now I don't care, walking across the parking lot, an empty field, the town-homes extending off in an endless row to the horizon, I just want to find our home.
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1246
(Woke up at 7:00 AM, weird dreams, jotted some notes. Going to read them this is what I find: London, Open Graves, Cars, Chop, Cemetery, bare knuckle fighting, hands, tented...almost all meaningless now.... What I remember is...)
It's dusk and I'm in an old car with (??) and 2 dogs in a Cemetery. The graves are fallen into ruin and sunken into the earth, you can get glimpses of the underworld through them, we're driving around and we have to hurry, there's a skeletal nun above one of the graves, a gatekeeper of sort, when the sun sets all the dead will have risen and we understand that they have to protect their graveyard and so we hurry. We find what we're looking for: a dead grey squirrel, pick it up and throw it towards a cleft in some rocks where it slips out of sight, into the underworld...and then we leave....
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1331
(Woke up at 6:00 AM, far too early. Stayed up until 7:30, reattempted to nap, lots of weird dreams then...)
I'm with this person, tall, lanky, I know him somehow (but it escaped me how exactly when we woke up), we're doing something with the boy - a much younger boy, remote controlled in a meadow/pond in the country, rich autumn colors.
And then tall and lanky invites me for breakfast. We go to McDonald's. By the time we arrive he's dressed up and has a wig and his face painted exactly like Ronald McDonald, only his face is done much much paler...His girlfriend is there too, out on the patio surrounded by bags of food, she's small and fat and like him, dressed up exactly like Ronald McDonald. There's so much food on the table and she's busy eating and I'm wondering if some of the food is for me (and he's tucking into bags of food like there's no tomorrow) - I suggest that I'm going to go inside and buy myself some breakfast and offer to buy him some too expecting, of course, that they will tell me there's enough there for all of us - but he doesn't, he tells me he's famished and continues eating with his girlfriend....
Meanwhile the real Ronald McDonald is coming up the street, he's not too tall or too lanky or too small or too fat or too pale, he's coming up the street looking just like Ronald McDonald should then he sees us and seems to stop like he doesn't want to confront these cheap imitations...
And from there the dream dissolves into another .... I'm on a bus and going down a ravine and over a river and I can see from the window that the river is rich pickings for Indian Artifacts, an Estate Sale at a fabulous old house in Mount Royal and a parade down the hill and a girl from work is getting me to take innocent pictures of her with an old Polaroid camera and when I'm done the remaining film feeds through the camera and there are pictures there she won't want me to see....