Dreams do come true…
No, not those dreams. I mean the kind when you sleep.
“I don’t dream,” say some people. Well, they’re wrong. Everyone dreams, even cats and fish— well, maybe not fish, but cats certainly. You can see their little paws moving, and their whiskers. It’s physiology. Just blowing off neurological steam, say some. I disagree with that idea, but let’s move on…
“I don’t remember my dreams” would be a more accurate thing to say. It ain’t easy, I’ll admit that much. Each Autumn I begin a new Dream Journal. This Fall marks number nine— nine years of keeping track of my dreams (the kind marked by REM, or whisker movements). Almost a decade… and it is one of the better decisions I’ve made in my life. If you’re a serious writer, you might want to consider it as well. If you’re not a serious writer, you will be after just a few short years.
Here’s why:
Dreams are hard to remember when you wake up. They can be so elusive, but tantalizingly near— there one second, and gone the next… just a couple of neurotransmitters away from oblivion. Most dreams are forgotten, and when you do recall them, you’re lucky to remember a tiny fraction of what happened. I’m talking a hundredth or a thousandth’s of all the action, settings, plot, and characters.
There’s that, the brain thing, the remembering thing— sort of like exercise for your longterm storage neurons. And it will change the way you wake up. Alarm clock? Throw it out the window.
And there’s the writing part:
You do it every day, even if you just make an entry saying how you forgot all your dreams. Discipline. Write every day and you’re a writer.
There’s also a freedom here you don’t find in anything else you do. Basically, you’re writing a rough draft that no one will ever read (except maybe yourself). No need to worry about grammar, spelling or punctuation… Free at last. I find this liberating.
And there’s the challenge. When you do recall your dreams, even a snippet, it’s going to be complicated and nuanced. Guess what? You’ll have to put that down in writing somehow, and you’ll be better for it.
I won’t get all Freudian here, or even Jungian… What do your dreams mean? Not a clue. Though, after doing this for almost ten years, I can say it’s more than just blowing off neurological steam.
“I don’t dream,” say some people. Well, they’re wrong. Everyone dreams, even cats and fish— well, maybe not fish, but cats certainly. You can see their little paws moving, and their whiskers. It’s physiology. Just blowing off neurological steam, say some. I disagree with that idea, but let’s move on…
“I don’t remember my dreams” would be a more accurate thing to say. It ain’t easy, I’ll admit that much. Each Autumn I begin a new Dream Journal. This Fall marks number nine— nine years of keeping track of my dreams (the kind marked by REM, or whisker movements). Almost a decade… and it is one of the better decisions I’ve made in my life. If you’re a serious writer, you might want to consider it as well. If you’re not a serious writer, you will be after just a few short years.
Here’s why:
Dreams are hard to remember when you wake up. They can be so elusive, but tantalizingly near— there one second, and gone the next… just a couple of neurotransmitters away from oblivion. Most dreams are forgotten, and when you do recall them, you’re lucky to remember a tiny fraction of what happened. I’m talking a hundredth or a thousandth’s of all the action, settings, plot, and characters.
There’s that, the brain thing, the remembering thing— sort of like exercise for your longterm storage neurons. And it will change the way you wake up. Alarm clock? Throw it out the window.
And there’s the writing part:
You do it every day, even if you just make an entry saying how you forgot all your dreams. Discipline. Write every day and you’re a writer.
There’s also a freedom here you don’t find in anything else you do. Basically, you’re writing a rough draft that no one will ever read (except maybe yourself). No need to worry about grammar, spelling or punctuation… Free at last. I find this liberating.
And there’s the challenge. When you do recall your dreams, even a snippet, it’s going to be complicated and nuanced. Guess what? You’ll have to put that down in writing somehow, and you’ll be better for it.
I won’t get all Freudian here, or even Jungian… What do your dreams mean? Not a clue. Though, after doing this for almost ten years, I can say it’s more than just blowing off neurological steam.
No comments have been added yet.
