I woke up ready to write this morning, and instead spent nearly a half-hour staring at my screen waiting for Norton to fix error 3039,1. At least I am seated facing my window that looks out into the backyard.
The sky behind the web of bare tree limbs and branches is a subtle variation of grays.
I particularly noticed the sky color when I opened the blinds because I had just awakened from a dream that included a perfectly clear turquoise sky. It wasn’t an entire sky so much as it was an open doorway in which my dad was standing. The sky included the doorway shape as well as the shape of a door opening out from it. When Dad finished talking, he turned and walked back through the portal and closed the door behind him.
The conversation between Dad and me was short and gave me some food for thought, but I will save that for my personal journal. What I want to talk about here is how some dreams seem to be a mishmash of recent impressions the mind is sorting out, while others are fraught with symbolism, or give us the gift of the palpable presence of someone we have lost, or signal something is happening to someone close to us.
I say “us”, but of course I am only sharing my own personal experience.
Maybe for me, color is something my mind knows will grab my attention. If there has been some outstanding splash of color surrounding a dream image, I wake up with it and it stays with me all day as I mull it over in my mind.
There have been two or three times when I have awakened realizing I have been dreaming in black and white, and the uniqueness of those events also remained with me during my waking hours.
Some people have told me that they never dream. I cannot begin to get my mind around that concept. To me, a vivid dream is an unexpected treat. Each one is a work of art created just for my viewing.
Last night I got to spend a little quality time with my dad, and got to view some things through his unique sense of humor. Whatever dreams are made of, they wind up stored in my memory along with “real” experiences.
I believe it has been determined that small children cannot distinguish between dreams and reality. Maybe there is more significance to this observation than its simply being a stage of development. Maybe Jung’s idea of collective consciousness has something to it. Maybe dreams are a link between the spiritual and physical.
Or, maybe not.
Even if they are only ever a construct of my own brain, I am always grateful for a colorful and memorable dream.