A Dream Marathon

In Chinese, the character for dream is rather poetic. It has a waning moon lying under the grass, and a sleeping person inside a house. I wonder if our ancestors were implying the creation of dreams had something to do with the moon?

Anyway, this sleeping person was dreaming up a storm last night. Is it full moon yet? đŸ™‚

To read a Chinese version of the dream, go here.
I was in a native tribe of somewhere. The buildings were made of light brown and off-white granite stones. Everyone was wearing very primitive fur coats to keep warm. A young woman was talking to me. She had two long braids and a sunburned face. She was crying occasionally. It seemed her husband was mistreating her. Her brothers were angry. I didn’t know who I was but someone very close to her. A friend, maybe? Then the evening came and she went out. Apparently to meet her husband secretively. Next scene was a fight between her husband and her three brothers. The husband was killed in the end. Then came the surrealist part. His body was turned into some material that was used as part of a giant bronze statue-Michelangelo¡¯s David-like. As if a sacrifice ritual mixed with modern art installment, the statue was sacked into a deep abyss. The abyss was made of fiberglass kind of material, geometric shaped and smooth surface like marble. Everyone gathered around and watched the statue together with the poor girl’s husband remain sliding into this slick opening of the ground beneath our feet.

The next scene was a cold wintry desert plain. I was sitting with many people around a campfire, not far behind us there was a small hill, atop there was a onion domed church. So I thought we were in Russia. It seemed the first dream was a story told by someone around the fire. We had a tent build by a river. The tent was similar to a Mongolian nomad¡¯s dwelling. A round and sturdy looking place. Inside the tent, however, it was made up of circular “terraces” that resembled a stadium, minus all the chairs. We were supposed to sleep on the terrace, like long narrow beads on a necklace. When one layer was full, people laid down on the further up layers. The door was made of thick carpet, similar to the cotton drapery used by corner stores in Beijing’s winter. Somehow, one of my cats, Mars, was with us. I kept on telling everyone coming and going to watch out, don’t let the cat sneak out to the night. There were too many wild animals there, they could eat Mars for snack. Everyone was wearing military green thermo p.j.s. I wonder if I was a boy, too. Because everyone I saw in the tent sported crew cut. Was I in a military camp? All night I was restless because I was worried about loosing my cat. But all the while, Mars slept on the floor next to my terrace, large eyed and purring loudly.

When I woke up in my dream, I went to work, all dressed up. The office layout resembles my old company. With curved hallways and circular offices, very modern. pastel colored walls. I had to walk past a narrow hallway to get to my office, and the walls all around me was covered with floor to ceiling video screens. That day, however, all of them were playing the same slow-motioned clip. Walking among them, suddenly i had the sensation that I was also walking slow motion. It was truly strange. As if the time dimension suddenly sloooooowwwwwweeed down, and even the sooooouuunnnndddd and mmmmuuuuussscccciiiiiiccccc were slower, too. I felt like I was walking on cotton… It only happened whenever I entered that hallway. Once I left the hallway, everything returned to normal speed.

When I think back to the entire dream series, I was surprised at how the husband killing happened in a matter-of-fact fashion. No one in the dream was surprised or horrified. Only when I was awake, I was surprised at how violet that act could have been. But it didn’t seem violent at all.

Gui pointed out that nothing she dreamed has ever surprised her in the dreams.

Why is that? There are no surprises in dreams?

Why are we so much more creative when we are asleep than when we are awake? Which part of the brain is producing all these plots, images, sensations, and logic?

If our brain is like a computer, then dreams are the partying of all the uncollected “garbage” and broken pointers. Isn’t it? Maybe the logical and rational part of our brain is at sleep, so the creative cells can go crazy! Then why do the creative cells go crazy when we are awake?

I probably can find some kind of answer on google… maybe another day.

G’night and Sweet Dreams everyone! đŸ™‚