There is nothing more perplexing and rewarding, to me, than dreams. On the very rare occasion that I wake up without remembering a dream, I feel more confused than if I had dreamt of the craziest thing ever. I find myself asking what it was I did that blocked out my recollection of these pathways to my subconscious.
My dreams are a large part of my creative process. I try, with some difficulty, to write down my dreams as soon as I wake up so that I am able to have the most accurate depiction of my dream, as well as a record for myself. I have often used these recollections as the basis for short stories as well as a way to see inside my brain and figure out what it is that’s really going on in there.
Nearly all of them are unexciting, reiterations of what may happen to me on a daily basis, complete with all of the normal people that I may interact with and their requisite attitudes and personalities. However, contrary to what the book says is a commonly held belief that these have no meaning I find them to so much more meaningful and a better look at my psyche than if I was dreaming about dragons and monsters. On more than one occasion I have had to ask someone about what it was that I had done the night before, because my dreams are so real, in feeling, look, emotion, thought (within the dream), and any other context, that I literally cannot dissociate between the dream world and the real world. The first time this happened I was really quite scared, but I have learned to embrace it and actually look forward to it.
The book poses the question: Are these types of dreams used in tidying the brain to preserve sanity, or is it creativity coming through in our subconscious? From what I’ve been through so far, if these are used to keep a person sane, they could be doing a much better job.
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