What is the point of dreaming if that is what it is?
An intangible smorgasbord of images and ideas that disappear from one’s mind at the moment of waking. However, I hear you say, some of us remember our dreams, they come back to us like psychic regurgitations during the course of the day, whilst doing activities, whilst stepping on mind-fields that trigger an explosion of memory. They are those ‘Ah’ moments, those ‘deja vu’ moments, you have been there before, and then the realisation that the dream has come back. I dreamt the other night that I was in a place of work that I had long since left and I was asking questions about someone who had work there all those years before.
I was told that he had left after the summer.
I asked the reason for his departure, ‘He was getting ready to poppit,’ was the response.
But, I am not thinking about these dreams, I am thinking about the waking dreams, the dreams that began with, ‘What do you want be become when you are older?’
It wasn’t acceptable to reply with wiser, brainier, happier. No, what they wanted was something more specific, something linked to the workplace, something real. There has always seemed to be a yawning disparity between the real and the unreal. Dreams fall into the latter category unless they are achieved. It’s the achieving bit that can be tricky.
Let’s take subject A.
Subject A has always been known to be a ‘dreamer’. Subject A walked and talked in his sleep. Subject A carried on dreaming when those around him had woken up. Subject A stopped dreaming, or so he tried ever so hard to convince himself. Our research shows us that Subject A still dreams.
The other subjects went about their daily business without wasting time on ephemera. The drove new cars with low emissions and ate food bought at good supermarkets. They went on holidays that cost small fortunes, but they had earned the right to do so because they had worked so very hard all the rest of the year. The holidays, the clothes, the cars, and perhaps the private school fees, all added up to realistic dreams; dreams that you could actually enjoy and could see the benefit of. The other subjects were happy and if they were not happy they would treat themselves to another new car, holiday, clothes, or affair.
Subject A was neither happy nor was he unhappy. Subject A lived by a set of different measurements. He was neither metric nor imperial, but was something else that denied anyone to measure it. Let’s call the place that Subject A inhabited, Moment. He lived in the very second of his life at and at each second and he made no plans for the future or lamented his failed plans for his past. He was content.
Every day when Subject A woke up, he berated the clock for waking him.
During the night, he berated the cat for waking him and recently he had been berating his bladder for waking him. He knew that constant emptying of the bladder could be a sign of cancer. He had spent his life expecting cancer, but it had never come.
He expected a brown envelope falling on his mat (which he hadn’t possessed) beneath the letter-box which he did possess. He imagined bending down to pick the envelope up from the floor (on mat or not) and imagined that it deceived him. What ought to have been paper-thin now weighed a tonne (ton) in metric or imperial measurements. His back was bent by the unforeseen strain but he managed to lug it to the kitchen table and lower it down with it breaking either his back or the table. Then he would get a letter-opener (which he did not possess) and slice open the brown paper which had now turned itself in ancient leather. The paper-opener which he didn’t possess now became a sword. It was a scimitar and razor sharp. The brown paper would have no reply.
Once opened, it would disgorge its contents, a rough parchment emblazoned with runes that told the story of his condition and laid out the quest that he must set out upon in order to retrieve his health.
Either that or die.
He did not wish to die as he was in the moment and the moment felt good, even if he was engaged in battle with a life-threatening enemy. He was on the edge of his existence, perched on the last few inches of solid ground before the yawning invitation of a precipice opened up below him.
Subject A was taken to having flights of fancy.
Subject A was a natural dreamer, even when he was wide awake.