I have, in the long distant past, had a series of wonderful recurring dreams. My favorite is the most joyous feeling in my entire dream life, including all those marvelous erotic dreams that punctuated my vivid life among the living. I could tell you what was going on in my real life whenever I had an erotic dream. But the series of my best dreams is surrounded by a big nothingness, a life that pales so completely that it could have merely been an illusion. I don't know why. And because I don't know why, I wonder about it.
I am outside, walking somewhere, minding my business, whatever that means. And I come upon some small obstacle in my path. The thing in my path is an insignificance. But what happens next is meaningful. I hop over the obstacle and in the hopping I float. It feels so good. Like nothing I've ever imagined. I try it again, and again I float, weightless and free. The dream ends there, but the feeling lingers. And I think about it often. Let's pretend in my real life I am in a blank white space now where nothing happens at all. And the next time I sleep, I try the weightlessness again and it works better than before. I can jump higher, stay up, remain weightless longer. Is it flying? Not really. Not quite. There are periods of real life that are complete blanks, but then again I dream the dream and each time I get better at it. I can jump so high and stay up there weightless so long it is now flying. I can glide above the earth with no effort at all. It seems endless. And then it ends.
11 comments:
The vivid memories of my dreams pretty much stopped sometime in my twenties. Seems that is not the case for you.
Personally, I grew bored with erotic dreams. Erotic events are best experienced in person and while totally aware. Dreams like you describe here are what I would love to remember.
I certainly remember my dreams less, and their vividness is further between now that I'm out of my twenties as well. Maybe it's a guy thing.
Can't say I've ever floated or had any physical sensation such as this. Does being in a rowboat count?
If being a row boat was a pleasure beyond all measure. Then yes. It counts.
you need a holodeck! but then, so do I..hmmmmm
Ingrid
ps, I used to have flying dreams as a kid, I'd fly above earth, literally out in space and then, as you'd expect, I'd start falling, worrying I'd crash and poof..wake up..man!
I have this same dream!
except that I can get away from the bad guys by flying over the trees and houses.
I've been dreaming this for about ten years now and I now dream that I can practice flying any time. The practice seems to help because now (in my dreams) I can even turn somersaults in mid air.
In real life?? Scared to death of heights. Can't even stand on a ladder without my heart racing.
Stargirl, this was my dream experience too, but bad guys were no match for me. I could fly into outer space. And practice did make it better, easier, always toe-tip easy landings. I have no idea what ended them. So I'll blame it on a man.
I like your dreams!
It's kind of a theme in my non-plot dreams: I can hop and jump high enough to get airborne. High enough to worry about overhead power lines. But there is something bad down below and I start to fall. For awhile, I can regain altitude, but eventually I fall. And it is NEVER pleasant coming back down. It usually involves some kind of snapping teeth or horrible thing waiting to grab me by the ankles & reel me in.
But those dreams are not usual for me. Most of my dreams are completely plot-driven. Like a novel or movie, with tons of detail.
DK you have a little dream writing to do. Those plot driven dreams are a wealth of material.
My next dream post will be of the erotic type, which unlike MrMacrum's variety are so much better than reality. Cum to think of it, all my dreams are better than life these days. For one thing, my dreams are peopled with, well, People.
I've read that floating, "hang-time," and out right flying in dreams portends sustained success in your current work.
And for you this is a recurring dream. Better brace yourself, SU.
From your lips to a publishers ears, Kathleen
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