So I've noticed a trend in my dreams. I take my prescribed muscle relaxer for my headache inducing shoulder pain before bed, and I have wonderfully exhausting, detailed, multi-layered complex dreams. I don't take the medication before bed, and I get white washed, chaotic, and nearly incoherent dreams. For Example: A Flexiril Night:: There was an Addams Family styled house that towered tall and spooky over an abandoned cemetery. I lived in this house as a prostitute, and my older brother was my jealous, controlling pimp. In an attempt to get away from my brother, I conceived this elaborate scheme to escape that involved my love interest, a cherry red 1970 Pontiac convertible, and a family of circus elephants. There was an intense car chase where we'd stolen the baby elephant who rode in the back seat of the Pontiac honking and trumpeting at us the whole time; a shoot-out that resulted in my brother's demise, and a team of Acrobats coming to take the elephants back. I woke up with feathered boas, sequin encrusted corsets, Elephant trunks, Zuit suits, and tommy guns stuck in my head. A Night Without:: In sepia colored tones, I wonder through an empty house. Nothing is in focus and it's difficult to move without feeling restricted. Someone is knocking at the door, but no matter where I go, I can't find the door and the knocking eventually fades and all is silent. I climb the stairs, and with each step, it gets easier to move, so when I reach the top it's like a breath of fresh mountain air. There are three bedrooms upstairs and in each room there are three beds. There is no bathroom and this fact so absorbs my focus and concern I spend the rest of the dream going from room to room trying to devise a plan for renovation so that a bathroom could be installed without ruining the triple symmetry of each bedroom. I wake up with thoughts of porcelain toilets with embroidered rosette seat covers and pink shaded curtains. I am not a fan of medications of any kind- unless it's cough drops and they are honey flavored. But I find I'm more attracted to sleep when my muscle relaxer is involved in the bedtime equation. Also, any dreams I post on here, and due to the public nature of the blog, are open to assimilation. That is, if anyone were to read my dream blogs and find they can create a story more vivid, coherent, or better than my dream story, then by all means do it. Use it. I share freely with my dreams
I've come to realize my dreams are sometimes more complex than a regular dream. Lately there seem to be plots within plots in my nighttime escapes. This time, last night, there was way more going on than I was paying attention to. I was distracted. There was a duality that kept me pinging back and forth like a ping pong ball. First, I'm up to my knees in the ocean surrounded by low swells and jagged edges of coral encrusted rock, holding hands with a man I've never seen in person. The water is sapphire and emerald, the sand fine beneath my toes. I am in a red dress, marked dark by the water splashing up my hips and waist. There's a presence there but no matter how fast I turn, he stays just out of my peripheral. It makes me curious and slightly queasy, not seeing this person who remains hidden in the open ocean. The next moment I'm in a shabby bedroom, paint peeling from the tops of the walls, a shabby curtain hanging by threads in a small window. The bed has no box spring and sits in the corner; the only other furniture is a night stand set by the door. I'm holding a note trying to read the writing scrawled there as a man whispers in my ear. His words are nearly inaudible and I am only able to hear certain words: Ocean, payback, mafia, and strange. The order of the words and the words themselves do not make any sense to me. I'm confused beyond reason, and don't know who or where I am. Back in the ocean with a beautiful stranger, we're sitting on a large rock surrounded by gentle waves. A sea lion swims by, chortling and snorting for air. The rock is rough beneath my fingers and my red dress is now teal and seaweed is tangled in my toes. The man tells me something but his words are caught by the wind. I leap off the rock thinking to catch them- to grab them from the wind and hear them in my hands. Splashing toward the shore I see a dinner party off near the sunset. Tables are covered in white and beautifully dressed women stand staring in my direction. There is fear, and then there is Fear, and I feel them both. Next, I'm back in the bedroom, struggling to get away from the note I can't read, yelling at the man I can't hear. I run through the home, out the front door, and think I'm getting away. I make a turn and end up back in the bedroom holding the note, listening to words I can't understand. I look up into his dark eyes and suddenly I can hear him say "Go back to the ocean, come back here.'' As if my ears had opened with my eyes and everything fell into place with diamond clarity. And yet, I still don't know what is going on. There is something expected of me as this man stares into my eyes but it elludes me. I'm back, splashing in the shallow waters, not sure if I'm running from the rocks or running to the people on the shore. A man's arm wraps around my waist and pulls me back into the water. I kick my feet and thrash my elbows and as my head submerges, I wake. Upon waking I had a sense my dream had more going on in the background as I struggled between the man in the ocean and the man in the bedroom. It felt political, like there were agendas I was not allowed to understand but witnessed enough of to know they were there. I'm really liking my dreams lately.
I had a dream the other night that I was Tinkerbell's great-granddaughter. I was living in an apartment in London and got news someone's pixie daughter had been kidnapped so I flew out my window to help search for her. In the process of searching I came upon a carnival with an enormous Ferris wheel. A little girl was riding the Ferris wheel with her father who was being mean to her. I swooped down and took the little girl. As we were flying away, a blue orb appeared out of nowhere and seemed to be following us. So I turn around to confront it and discover it was a doorway to Neverland. The doorway opened and accepted the little girl but expelled me. Angry, I went in search of a fabled Prince whose Golden Egg could open the gateway to Neverland. I find him but before I could talk to him I’m chased off by his bodyguards. As I’m flying around trying to think of a way to get back into Neverland, I get trapped in a slurpee cup by the mean father from the Ferris wheel. Since having this dream I cannot stop thinking about it. Pixie business is littering my mind and I’m getting downright frustrated with it. It’s interfering with my other stories! Grr.