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The endings of dreams

“Gay kids can be selfish too, and should have more patience and empathy with parents, because what the parents are dealing with is the end of a dream”.

A friend said this a few years ago and I never forgot it. It was so counter to what we’re expected to believe.

Dreams might not always be realistic, but we still have them. The strangers we meet when we sleep might be manifestations of people we know and have seen, but that does not mean we have control over them . Likewise dreaming while awake also takes over and we get caught up in what we think we know.

Expectations may not be fair, but they are expected. Unfortunately we’re human and we tend to hope that things will go a certain way. Stick to the script.

Normal, yes; but detrimental to happiness? Possibly… definitely.

As I deal with a breakup and wonder why I am still upset (or just disappointed?) I realise that some dreams are meant to end.

How does a dream end? We don’t know, and never will. Ever think about that? There will never be a conclusion. This is not Inception.

I relate to this from an article on Salon – Why we cant remember dreams:

When we sleep, wrote English psychiatrist Havelock Ellis over a hundred years ago, we enter a ‘dim and ancient house of shadow’. We wander through its rooms, climb staircases, linger on a landing. Towards morning we leave the house again. In the doorway we look over our shoulders briefly and with the morning light flooding in we can still catch a glimpse of the rooms where we spent the night. Then the door closes behind us and a few hours later even those fragmentary memories we had when we woke have been wiped away.

And that’s what happens when dreams bleed over into the real world. We are opened up to a realm of possibility and endless hope. Then there’s the pain.

This reminded me of anecdotal experiences from people who’ve said that physical pain is a sensation we can’t remember. I raised this point in a conference, and I got shouted down, but the more I think about it, I realised that I don’t remember the sensation of physical pain. Think about it. Come on, science, prove me right!

That time I stepped on a rusty nail and shrieked in pain; post wisdom teeth removal surgery; the time I fell on my face; my fall on a recent hike (Ok, I may have been drunk, but it still counts. Drunk hiking is a real thing, get on board). As my knee heals from that hike, I can feel the itch as my scab gets knitted from below and gets pushed off, its job nearly complete. And then it will be over.

Our bodies understand pain. Whether its pus or a scab, we get cloaked in a protective blanket for as long as we need, and then healing happens and we move on with our lives.

Emotionally and mentally we have not evolved as far yet.

Despite the dream being perfect and according to script, a feeling of dread can still set in. Fear is an enemy that never lets go. And it often leads a mark.

“Yes, we are left with (fear). Scarring can do that. Wounds heal. Scars don’t,” said my friend Glynn.

Ever the biologist, I tried justifying scarring as leaving us tougher and stronger.

He politely shut me down and said: “[A] scar indicates a weak spot. A specific vulnerability. That’s the biological fact, not the metaphorical myth. But we can live with scars. And move. Maybe not even while “moving on” or “moving ahead”. Maybe we just move. Scars have little sensory tissue. So it feels rougher. The nerves don’t grow back. Maybe that could be a metaphor for trust”

I’ve always told you that I have smart friends.

So does a dream ever end?

One of my favourite stories, again dealing with pain and dreams, is the one where I am falling. Apparently this is an indicator of losing control. Ya think?!

Well I was a teenager and my bed was pushed against the wall. In the dream, in which I was free falling mid air, I got closer to the ground, arms flailing and panic setting in. I woke up, but as I was supposed to land, I jerked forward and knocked my head against the wall. Hard.

I fell and bruised, but I lived. I survived.

<p>Author <a href=”https://plus.google.com/102128103971030481396” target=”blank” rel=”author”>Jerome Cornelius</a></p>


“A dreamed I dreamed last night” by Robin Williams

I guess I should start this post by saying that this is not the actor Robin Williams, but a friend who happens to have the same name. I haven’t posted in quite some time and thought I’d share a share. I found this on Facebook of all places and it hit me.

Robin blogs here. I thought this post, essentially transcribing his dream, was beautiful and evocatively written. It’s one half short story, the rest a blurry dreamscape with a scoop into his subconscious.


I was walking home in the early evening, the pine trees watching me make my trek towards the corner property on Finding and Silt. I arrived there and realised that nobody was home. I started to become concerned. But just as suddenly, the worry was interrupted by a redhead girl, sitting in the garden. She was new.

I asked  her, “How do we get inside?”. She arose, turned and ran to the veranda. Once there, she used her elbow to break the thin glass on one of the ceiling length windows. She then threw herself through it like it was a finish line.  I stood there incredulous, and clearly upset. However, as our friends were gone, and the night leaned in ever darker, I was desperate and followed her inside.

Just as we entered the house I remember wondering  about a young man I saw meandering suspiciously at the top of Silt.

That’s when it happened, without warning.

They tried to enter our home but we used our bodies and our magic to defend the threshold.  I was terrified at the way they all felt entitled to my home. We certainly defended it, but the horror at what people were capable of is what had us thinking, had us feeling down the next day. A sense of vulnerability.

It was only when I was fixing the thin panes on the veranda the next morning, that it occurred to me why this was so important; why this deep sadness about others had followed me for this entire lifetime and perhaps even a few before.

I had apparently blocked something quite beautiful from my conscious processing after the battle. After the fight. Everything went dark until now.

Then as gentle as the sunlight streaming onto my putty- covered fingers, the visions came. An exchange at midnight during our sacred ritual. To prove her loyalty to our clan our new redhead friend had exchanged some beautiful magic. The star fruit, the wand and the river stone.

The Moon basking us in her glorious lunar ethereal glow. She approved, and that made us feel grateful to be alive. This brought tears. And it certainly brought us a new warrior. Her magic was out of this world . Legacy magic. Prehistoric. But beautiful and very needed.

– A dream I dreamed last night.

Robin Neil Williams

05/08/2015 @ 5:20am

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