Day 9, 2017.
Dreams are still one of the great mysteries of life—probably will always be. Thoughts are paths leading through the dim reaches of our sleeping brains, bringing joy and fright, often even in the same dream. OK, I admit to having an affinity to Kermit the Frog, with his songs about rainbows and his “lovers, and dreamers…and me…”
Enough of that kind of nonsense, I suppose. It’s just that my nature runs to the beautiful and kindly connected features of life in general and life-on-the-edge in particular. Sometimes it seems that no matter how terrible the evening news gets to be, there is some sense of surreality that tinges the horrific details with fuzzy edges that lend a hint of humor, at least ridicule, that belies the other-worldy bizarreness.
Occasionally I will think of something, a conversation or place that I have been, and it takes awhile to realize that the incident had actually been a dream. An example of this phenomenon occurred for me at the time of the 9-11 attack on New York City. During the day the news channels were playing the footage repeatedly in which the second airplane hit the Twin Towers, flying into the side of the already burning building…like a Frisbee sailing toward its mark endlessly on a giant loop.
I had entered into a fitful sleep, having watched the 9-11 tragedy over and over all day. Also, coincidentally a family crisis was evolving closer to home, involving my adult children who were present at the impending death of their father (my ex-husband,) in a hospital in Michigan. More than once I got out of bed and turned on the television to reassure myself that it had been in a dream of my own that the jet passenger plane was slicing into the tower …but each time I checked my TV the horrific incident was happening again in real time.
A similar reality-dream happened to me again in November of 2016, when I was awakened by a dream on election night. I had not waited for the final count to come down before turning in, but I did have a long and detailed dream about the election…but my dream did not reflect what really happened. In the morning CNN came on with news that was the opposite of what I had been dreaming.
Every now and then the thought recurs—that maybe Shakespeare was right about
life and dreams and the interaction of the two concepts alternating in the realms of reality and make-believe.