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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1406
N*** is upstairs in the kitchen.
I'm in the basement. It's a dark decrepit basement suite-type affair, brightly lit with an unshaded single bulb on the ceiling, dark corners, the lighting is theatrical. I'm meeting, beneath the bulb, 2 people in suits, generic people, unrecognizable, one is a man, the other a woman. I think the woman is asian, but it's unimportant.
They want me to be a secret agent. The woman explains that I need to spend the next year in the basement training, they've assigned someone to work with me...I have to learn over 100 martial arts.
It seems like a lot, but the woman explains "Many of them are only a paragraph long" and I accept this.
The woman that works with me, she's dark, full figured, a pastiche of women I've known, we're still in the basement, every day it's the same, we wake up, she wants to have sex, I'm concerned because she's not teaching me anything - "Don't worry about it" she tells me, the same basement, dark in the corners, brightly lit in the center with an unshaded lightbulb, sex is routine, mechanical, a job...
It's been a year, N*** is still upstairs in the sunny kitchen, peeling onions, cooking food....She's quietly angry with me. The girl with me in the basement is still training me, she doesn't see a problem with this, every day is the same...
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1246
It had to happen, so much time in front of a computer. When I waited tables there were "Waiters Nightmares" - every waiter knows what they are, you're in a restaurant where the people keep coming and you can't keep up, they're sat faster than you can serve them, a classic anxiety dream.
And now, different dreams for a different profession.
Dreams of code, visual images of sheets of numbers passing through my ears, there is no anxiety associated with these dreams, just pages and pages of numbers and code passing between my ears, as if on a ribbon. I don't understand the code in my dreams, there is no importance or value to understanding, it's just the regurgitation of a days work, numbers, letters all unwinding from my brain.
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1379
I'm in a kitchen - it's huge, spotless, covered in stainless steel. Everywhere there are people dressed in white, chefs and kitchen porters, my job is to scrub the large baking pans, we're talking, the chefs and I, I've just recieved my Masters Degree in English, one of them jokes about it, someone else tells him to give me a little respect. Outside, on the way home, a sunny, summers day, and I think to myself "What can I do with a masters in English? Maybe become a proofreader"....this thought is discouraging.
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1326
There are many books written upon the symbolism of dreams, how-to books that attempt to interpret for you what your dream meant.
Their value, however, depends on how much you are a product of the society that prints them. While there are unquestionably archtypes, everyone has somewhere their own mythology, and unless you have read and reread those dictionaries you are liable to find many of your dreams don't fall within their pat categories and conventions. Should you find they are, question how indoctrinated you've become, that your dreams so closely resemble everyone elses...
If you've written your dream down quickly after waking you will often find that it's interpretation becomes clear. The relationships, the problems, the events will explain themselves. Leaving it, however, and brooding upon it leaves it open to the reworkings of memory, and memory will often reshape and rebuild the dream each time you return to it; eventually your memory of the dream bearing no resemblance to the dream you actually had...think of it as a mental game of "Chinese Whispers". And this will make it's interpretation difficult.
- Details
- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Dreams
- Hits: 1309
I'm lying in bed in a room, the room is in a field, somewhere south of Calgary. By the light I'd say it's autumn or spring. There are only 2 or three walls in this room, they are painted blue with clouds so that they disappear into the horizon, you know they're there by the furniture up against them, there is no ceiling, above is a long thin silver cloud, turning, I'm lying in bed watching.
The cloud turns and on the bottom I see a tornado, just forming, all filled with an unearthly blue light, spinning and growing, it's turning with the cloud, and I call to you so you can come and see, you're in an outhouse somewhere, perhaps a 100 paces from the room, but the cloud turns so that the tornado has disappeared by the time you come.
Maybe it will come again.
So we wait, in bed, and the cloud turns some more, like the wheel of a bike, until finally the tornado appears again, it's beautiful, and somehow the tornado touches down near us, the far end of the room against the cloud painted wall, we watch, and from it appears a beautiful girl, dark hair, eyes, she has been possessed, she's confused, frightened, up against the wall, you approach her, you know her, "It's all right" you tell her, and she comes to her senses.