Ok, enough with the visual metaphors.... ok ok ok...
My brain is reeling with questions about Dreams and their meanings, because the last several nights have been full of sensory-overload of really awesome time-travelling visions and then (last night) fucked up realism in a different city. Even more strange, and cool, is that even though I wake up in the middle, or 'unplug back into the present' I fall back into the story of my brain. All of which include walking around different cities in different times, meeting people with faces of which I may or may not have randomly seen in this reality. And there is no possible way I already met Jimi Hendrix of the two guys who stabbed me in my kidney. In THIS reality...
Two nights ago I found myself walking in what appeared to be a giant dirty city in the daytime. It was in the 1970s with long hair, paisley patterns and lots of bustling hippies and businessmen. I wandered into a dive bar that was filled up. The smell was a cross between decade-stained alcohol spills and different smoke to inhale. The sourness made me walk into different rooms and examine all the different bands and live music, all of which were different. Different instruments, different equipment. Then, I found where I was supposed to be, because Jimi Hendrix ran up and threw an arm around me with a spliff. We hung back and listened to the bands. He had a giant afro, and the friendliest smile. He went up on stage with his guitar, sang, it wasn't a huge concert so it was when he was first starting out. I ran into a mirror and saw I was wearing huge bell-bottom jeans and a brown/cream ruffled paisley shirt. My hair was super long (making me miss having hair now...) after he was done on stage we went into a smaller room which was white, low ceilings, no furniture save for some dirty mattresses and beanbags. We cuddled, and got super high again. Then met up with a group of young people, all in different colors and hairdo's. Everyone was so nice, it was really cool hanging out with these people. We got on a bus and ended up at one of the girl's parents old farm. Hustled into a barn (still daylight) where we all plopped down on the floor. Something was passed around, and when it was my turn to partake in the thing which was being passed, I immediately had a burst of swirling colors, and I felt like I was rolling around on a waterbed. I remember saying to myself "oh, I must be tripping balls" because it felt REALLY FUCKING REAL. I'm guessing I was having an acid flash, hence the reality of the situation. I woke up because it got so intense, then I realized I wasn't really tripping, so I went back to sleep. I wanted to get back to Jimi so bad, meditating on this desire, I ended up BACK in the same place where I began: in the street outside of a dive bar. Except, Jimi was no longer a part of the scenario. I went into a dive bar once again, and this time there was a will-call box with a small window. People stuck their hand in as entry, and if they passed they could go in. If they didn't, they weren't allowed in. I didn't know what this was about, so I stuck my hand in... Well well well, there was an invisible tattoo on my hand, signaling the secret group of Jimi. I fucking got it, at once... this must have happened when I was tripping my head off. This is why Jimi was no longer there, but more in spirit. It was fascinating how everything tied in at the last chapter. I woke up and immediately wrote this down, and wore my most trippy shirt to work in memory of the Jimi Hendrix Experience.
Dream 2 (last night)
This one is still messing with my thinking process, because I'm not sure where any of this came from and how it because a dream sequence. It was nighttime, and I was downtown Detroit. There was a big "D" billboard so, there I was. I was alone, the streets were dark, no lamps save for the neon lights lighting up outside the bars. It was raining, and gross out. I had just walked out of a bar, I was clad in leather, attempting to look threatening and badass. I was scheduled to meet up with another party of friends somewhere down the block. Turning a corner, there was a long road with no lights in between the first and second destination. I started walking faster, and almost ran into two guys. They were skinny, one was white one was black. I pivoted and tried to turn back when they caught me in between the two of them. They smiled, evil twinkling in their eyes, and threatened to rape me. I kicked one of them in the back of the knee, breaking his leg and went to punch the other in the jaw, but the white guy grabbed my while the other dude pulled out a knife and stabbed me in my left kidney and then my lower back, so I got it good twice. To my despair, I couldn't change the scenario, I had to figure out how to rescue myself. I started to run as fast as my body allowed, and I felt the tears of my back running, hot blood was staining my clothes and I ran toward the light. There was a police car outside of a pizza joint, and next to it was a homeless shelter. I threw myself under the rooftop out of the rain. No one saw me, or no one wanted to see me because no one came to help. I went into the homeless shelter, there was a long line of people bundled up in many layers; it seemed that my situation was normal, because they put my on a cold slab and stitched up the wounds. It hurt like hell... like getting injected with a 6 inch needle every time. I looked in the mirror and saw that yep, I was stabbed in two different places. I started to cry. I found a corner away from everyone else, and curled up in a ball. I kept telling myself, 'you are dreaming, this is just a dream and you are not really hurt' but I couldn't wake up from it. A man who looked a lot like my best friend Joe came over and tried to console me from a distance. He wore a furry hat that covered most of his face. I looked up, and fell asleep. ... THEN I woke up from the dream in angst, I didn't like that nightmare and was done with the scene. I wished I could change what happened. The misfortune grew in my mind, and as I focused on a mantra of peace, I fell back asleep. .... woke up and my clothes has been mended where the knife tore it up. It was now daylight. I walked out of the shelter on a mission: to find the two devils and make them pay. Eventually night came again, and I snuck back towards where I met them: the space between the light. They were there, and hadn't changed a bit save for no injuries or broken legs. Not sure how they healed but hey, it's a dream right?..... Not sure where I got a gun, but I pulled a nice bulky revolver out of my back pocket. Maybe my friendly stranger put it in my pocket while slept. Maybe it was a videogame moment where needed materials 'appeared'. Maybe I knew I wanted to shoot them, not knife them back... "OI" I yelled, and walking up very fast, I pulled the trigger and shot them both. 3 rounds went off. I watched them fall in slow motion, and a smile formed on my face. They hit the ground, and I started to laugh, really hard. Like, I was watching the world's funniest animal clips... but maniacal and murderous. My mind must have been satisfied by this ending because I woke up to two purring kitties who were kneading my back, RIGHT WHERE I WAS STABBED. Reality and dreams mixing together and the odd synchronicity of the two crashing into one another the last couple nights are making me wonder...wonder casually: are we awake in this reality, or do we wake up to the real reality when we dream?
QUESTION: Is it 'right' or 'wrong' to think of dreams as possible different dimensions of our lives? Some minds can't accept this as a possible question with a possible explanation but I'm open to it. Hell I want to pick a dream expert's brain and ask what the fuck is going on here.
Do YOU dream in multi-sensory situations? Some only dream in black and white, some don't remember their dreams. Some only see a fraction of a shade of color. Some have overwhelming sensations when they dream.
We only use approximately 10% of our brain when we are awake. It is scientifically proven female brains are more active at night than male brains.
I write a ton to filter out the thoughts in my head, so I'm not mentally running in circles driving myself crazy.
These dreams are stories, not puzzles. Stories I have never known before, and they are just too damn real to call dreams.
What do you think?
Maybe I should sleep less, and dream more...
Stay positive, keep showing up, always work harder. Better to be sore tomorrow than sorry! --- ADC