Dream Diaries

I have kept a dream diary over the last ten years or so…

… I like to detail them immediately on waking – this is the best method as they are like gossamer & will slip quite effortlessly away otherwise. They are best captured in hand. The practice of keeping a nocturnal diary will enable a stronger retention of dreams.

What do they reveal? What do they mean? I don’t pretend to understand & that is part of their joy. The diaries are, I think, a fine habit to acquire, if only as a creative writing, handwriting exercise & documentation of the subconscious. Only several times in my life have I experienced some form of precognitive dream, but they remain locked vividly in the mind forever – a true bridge between conscious states &, I don’t know, time travel? Mostly, if deconstructed, they can be explained away as details of everyday thoughts & recent experiences or hopes or concerns – often though, they remain quite mysterious – again, the pleasure of them I suppose.

Here, in keeping with their chance like nature, I will include random ‘dippings’ into my dream diaries dating from the last decade. They are examples retrieved from handwritten volumes dated January 2008 – the present.

Each volume is accredited with an address relevant to the period & each entry dated.

One interesting feature about the dream diary I have noticed is that, despite their often (notoriously) flimsy nature, once captured, they are, upon reading, or revisiting, immediately almost always at once quite vividly remembered! Also, unlike a day-to-day journal, they are hugely entertaining (to the dreamer only, no doubt!) to revisit & often only bring joy!

Further, they are a beautiful way to stay in touch with the people & places of one’s past (& future?)

[excerpt]

Quadrant, Mill Dam.

January 1^st 2017

A man in a pinstripe suit tries to force his way into the bedroom. He carries a pinstripe carpetbag & wears a pinstripe full-face mask.

January 2^nd 2017

It is a beautiful day. I am sat on the top deck of a red bus travelling up the hill toward Caterham woods. It is a place that I have never heard of. I am going to scout out some places to camp.

I notice that Danny B. is sitting near me. He says that he is on his way to the cemetery to redress his father’s gravestone. As proof of this he produces a lovely piece of pale blue cloth. The cloth has some text printed on it & I comment on the font.

The bus climbs ever higher up the hill & eventually we are passing through an ancient oak wood. The sunlight plays between the trees. We get off the bus in a village & walk to the cemetery. Danny B. says goodbye, but I decide to go with him to the cemetery, saying, “I’ve decided to take the air.”

We are now back on the village. A small boy crouches in the gutter at the side of the road. He prods the drain cover & says, “Cannabis.” He stretches the syllables out very slowly & finds this very amusing. I find it sad.

You can follow my dreams at nickreeves.blog