NIGHT OF MARCH 6 (1972), IN NADI MOTEL-- So noisy couldn't sleep all night. Like a train station: trucks roaring past, people talking in hotel, doors slamming, etc., etc. Bad dreams… 7:15 a.m. we fly out to Australia. Possible that our waking psychic states are mirror images of our sleep & dreams, as the branches of the tree mirror the pattern of the roots? So that the profile of our dreams transfigures our waking moods preceding or following that sleep? The depression or euphorias of dreams carried over into our daytime subliminal feelings… A bad dream may blight our day, a dream of desire carry over into waking sexual aggressions. Of course, it's all in Freud, all in Wilhelm Reich… The moon is my undoing when the sun comes up, the midnight sun gathers us in, our dream siblings signal us thru the flames.
Showing posts with label dreams. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dreams. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 3, 2018
But in your dreams, whatever they be…
Another excerpt from Lawrence Ferlinghetti's travel journal, Writing Across the Landscape, © 2015:
Saturday, January 30, 2016
Our house, is a very very very fine house…
I had a very vivid dream a few nights ago, about houses.
My first house was a tacky 70s aesthetic, filled with lots of vinyl furniture. It was kind of ugly, but functional. Vinyl furniture is uncomfortable on hot days, but easy to clean.
I left and came back, and it had been transformed into a movie theater. Everyone knew me, but I had to wait in line to get a glass of Pepsi. It was warm inside. There was carpet.
I left and came back, and it had been transformed into a two-story house filled with fishing gear. It had wooden walls and floors, and a second story balcony. It was beautiful. I never wanted it to change-- but it did.
I left and came back, and now it was an auditorium filled with relatives. A family reunion was going on. Some people I hadn't seen in years, some had even passed on, but they were all there enjoying each others company. The light was yellow...
I've been reading a lot Buddhist texts about change, so I suppose it's not unusual that my subconscious would create its own metaphor. Maybe I'm trying to tell myself something.
Change is going to come rapidly to my life. Some changes I'll enjoy, many I won't.
But it is inevitable. The best strategy will be to make the most of whatever house I find myself in, while remaining aware that tomorrow's house may be very, very different.
My first house was a tacky 70s aesthetic, filled with lots of vinyl furniture. It was kind of ugly, but functional. Vinyl furniture is uncomfortable on hot days, but easy to clean.
I left and came back, and it had been transformed into a movie theater. Everyone knew me, but I had to wait in line to get a glass of Pepsi. It was warm inside. There was carpet.
I left and came back, and it had been transformed into a two-story house filled with fishing gear. It had wooden walls and floors, and a second story balcony. It was beautiful. I never wanted it to change-- but it did.
I left and came back, and now it was an auditorium filled with relatives. A family reunion was going on. Some people I hadn't seen in years, some had even passed on, but they were all there enjoying each others company. The light was yellow...
I've been reading a lot Buddhist texts about change, so I suppose it's not unusual that my subconscious would create its own metaphor. Maybe I'm trying to tell myself something.
Change is going to come rapidly to my life. Some changes I'll enjoy, many I won't.
But it is inevitable. The best strategy will be to make the most of whatever house I find myself in, while remaining aware that tomorrow's house may be very, very different.
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