Gifted Abbey Road playing cards from London
Playing cards before the outdoor movie at Waterloo Park
Rango
We can never really understand our sleeping dreams; they leave just as fast as they enter our cognition. During my last remaining hours of sleep this morning, I must have woken up at least a half dozen times to vaguely remember that my dreams included roundtable discussions with people from my past. These dreams and their scattered details have left me lingering about the people who have slipped under my subconscious. Why were these people there? Because of excommunicated feelings? Because of personal vendettas re-released in dream form? When we wake up from an improbable dream, we interpret and analyze as if it is our looking glass into reality. However, I really don’t think there is any need to dissect every dream as if they have an inherent meaning. Every dream remembered is left for interpretation and how we reflect on our dreams, reflects on how we perceive our own lives. The important thing to take away from dreams is that it is only through the practice of analysis do we find its significance. For example, in the past I was guilty of dreaming of a not-so-nice thing boyfriend-at-the-time did and felt an uncontrollable angst against him the rest of the day. It was as if I had believed there was a reason to the dream and therefore drew upon the warpness of my mind to create a new reality. Trying to make sense of that dream led me to be confused with my real-life. The dream was not a mirror of reality and so an explanation of why I dreamt what I did would not have sufficed. It’s only through being a critic of my own thinking did I discover why I felt this way.
Yours,
P. xo.
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