Awoke from two nightmares last night and this morning and I must say I’m genuinely disturbed by the images that my brain is projecting in my head. True, I did fall asleep amidst the middle of reading Maddadam, but these frightening dreams had little to do with genetically modified animals or post-apocalyptic scenarios.
I have been having nightmares quite often in the past month or so – I’m hoping it’s a passing phase rather than permanent visitor into my lifestyle. I like having dreams – I love being able to relive vivid details or to revisit certain worlds in my mind, I love being able to fantasize about world not like ours. But I’m afraid that if this carries on, the only thing I’ll be looking forward to is the escape – waking up and running away from said worlds.
People along a Freudian line of perspective would tell me that my dreams are giving me a message – revealing my inner fears or reflecting the turmoil and stress in my heart…Or perhaps even a sign of psychological illness. I suppose there must be some truth in this analysis as I don’t believe dreaming is meaningless, but I also don’t believe the dreaming has a direct and correlational connection with reality. Dreams are dreams. We fantasize. We build goals from them. We explore ourselves and our nature in them. But they are not us. They do not dictate who we are or what we’re feeling. Dreams are the stage, and we, independent from it, are the actors.
Just last year, I was often dreaming and waking up laughing or smiling. I can’t help but yearn to have those dreams come back to me. It’s like they’ve simply vanished from the palm of my hands. They were so close and still so vivid in my memories…but I fear that they are slowly being replaced by this onslaught of nightmares. I must admit that I am scared.
Sigh. Let this all pass with time; for time is the ocean that washes all away.For now, I shall escape here. Writing will provide me some protection against the horror of surreality.