I woke last night in the middle of a dream. One of those intriguing, what happens next kind of dreams with lots of strange subliminal messages that I feel I ought to understand the meaning of but instead they leave me confused and frustrated.
Trying to get back to sleep, I’d love to have jumped back in and see where that dream was taking me. Naturally no such luck and I dreamt about something different and forgotten. Dreams are like jumbled up chapters out of a book, some stay in the memory, most disappear without trace. Imagine all those dreams I’ve experienced each night and they’ve never held their place in my daydreams. All lost chapters of a spectacular book, which I’ll never read in its entirety.
Each night, in my sleep, my brain is being amazingly creative. How I wish I could capture those dreams and turn some of them into a book. Not all of them, because quite frankly, an awful lot don’t make sense to me, never mind anyone else. However, my ability to cling on to those lost chapters are fraught with challenges. The moment I’m awake, they slip away, fragmenting into snippets, snapshots and leftover emotional baggage. I’m left with the sense I live another whole separate life while I’m fast asleep of which I’m completely unaware. What a waste.