Squirtings from the Space Goose

Squirtings from the Space Goose

Where do dreams come from?

From the subconscious mind, trying to work through the day’s experiences and emotions? From spirits, angels or demons walking among us, attempting to communicate? From humanity’s collective unconscious, yielding ancient symbols and archetypes in new guises? Or from something much more natural, simple and straight forward – like a giant Space Goose, effusing streams of sensory shadow play into our nocturnal minds?

Above it all

dreamsPosted by Nick 09 May, 2012 07:16AM

I'm having dreams-within-dreams with increasing frequency, that is to say, dreams wherein I wake up from a dream, often several times. (I think maybe it's caused by thinking about writing down dreams for this blog.)

I was at some party with lots of people. Many things happened, but I only recall fragments, and will skip these events.

I woke up on a bus. C, a friend of mine from before (the same person from the dream of March 16) was also there, and a couple of other people. These had all been to the party. What was that thing anyway? I asked C. I think it was an underskog.no event, he said. Maybe also connected to gaming, since I met a lot of gamers there, someone said. Still I was unsure whether I had really been to that party or if I'd dreamt it.

I think maybe that party was just a dream, I said. We had now left the bus and were walking on a country road. But that would mean this is also a dream, I continued. The others didn't answer. I'll prove it, I said, and walked down to a lake near the road. I planned on doing something outrageous that would only occur in a dream. I was barefoot anyway, so I walked until the water reached my ankles. But as a tank ship passed by quite closely the water seemed dirty somehow, and I had second thoughts.

I thought I'd try something else. The others were now a little ahead of me. I tried to fly, willing myself straight up into the air. It worked, and I flew past them. I looked back and down at the road, the trees around it and the people. It all looked like a plastic film. I reached down and picked up one if the guys, peeling him off the film. I held him between my fingers, a flat plastic, lifeless figure. I dropped him back onto the film, and then flew down and landed on the road. Everything now looked normal again. But the guy was lying on the ground, the others standing over him, and he looked like he was hurt.

I woke up in my old room, in the apartment I had lived with my mother and brother. They were there, and my brother was still a little boy. In this part of the dream I tried to "figure out" what I had dreamt, and also communicate it to my mother somehow. It involved a cell phone or pad like device with a touch screen, and I had great difficulty making it do what I wanted. I don't remember much detail.

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