According to my hastily scrawled notes, I had a dream where I was at an archeological dig in Egypt. Apparently, a tomb had been discovered and everyone was waiting for a chance to go inside. My notes don’t mention whether the tomb was cursed or not.
Last night, I’m pretty sure I had a dream that involved me working in some strange office building, where I had to show ID before I could go inside and where no one was willing to tell me when I was going to get paid. I do wish I could remember more about it because it was probably pretty interesting.
I was walking down a dark hallway while wearing a blue blouse, a long purple skirt, and a black beret. That’s all I remember.
I don’t remember much about last night’s dreams. I know that a lot of my friends were visiting and we were watching Barefoot in the Park. I was upset that someone had parked their car in the backyard. Then, when the movie ended, I was really upset that everyone left. Just fragments of movies and angst.
To be honest, I don’t remember much about what I dreamed, other than the fact that I kept waking up in the middle of the night as a result of them. I think, for the most part, they all had to do with me trying to watch a movie. In one dream, I couldn’t remember my passwords. In another dream, the television wouldn’t turn on and I couldn’t figure out who I should call to come fix it. Another one, I’m pretty sure, was just me talking to my sisters about whether or not it was safe to go to a movie theater.
A series of low-key dreams, all rather obviously the product of pandemic anxiety.
Well, I did it again. I had a dream and, when I woke up, I got distracted and I didn’t immediately write it down. Now, I can barely remember anything about it, beyond the fact that it involved me talking to someone who had knocked on the front door. Hopefully, this time I’ll learn my lesson and remember to write everything down as soon as I wake up.
When Samuel Taylor Coleridge wrote Kubla Khan, he claimed that the entire poem came to him in a dream but, as he was writing it all down, he was interrupted by a “person from Porlock” who spoke to him for an hour. When the unwanted visitor finally left, Coleridge discovered that he could no longer remember the dream and, as a result, Kubla Khan would never be finished. I think we’ve got those persons from Porlock in our life. The key is figuring out how to deal with them.
I only got about two hours of sleep last night and, while I know I had a dream, my memories of it are very fragmented. Don’t you hate that? One of the problems that I have, when I don’t get a lot of sleep, is that my dreams are actually more difficult to remember than when I get a full night’s sleep. I guess if I ever want to have anything worthwhile to post on this site, I better start getting more rest.
As for last night’s dream, it featured my neighbor knocking on my front door and asking me and my sister if we would help him look for his dog. We told him that we would help but we also said that he needed to do a better job of keeping the dog from getting out. He rolled his eyes at us and I remember feeling very annoyed with him.
And that’s all I remember. Did we find the dog? Did we roll our eyes back? Sadly, I do not know.