As far as I am aware, no one has fully deciphered the meaning or machination of dreams. In all the research I have done (wow Freud is heavy!!!!) no one seems to explain it better or more concisely than my son M. M told me a few months ago what dreams are. He said that they are a mixture of "memory and imagination". That kind of blew me away as I think he's right. I'll go one step further though and add the subconscious to this and I think we might be on to something.
How many times have you woken up and felt in awe of what you had dreamed but had no idea of how you could have possibly dreamed it? People, places, even feelings long forgotten suddenly come to the surface and make you start questioning their significance in your waking life.
Of course this leaves out the whole notion of prophetic dreams - which my friends will know I sometimes claim to have. I have thought about - this a lot. It is not the dreams that are prophetic. It is just being more connected to your core/soul/inner intelligence - what ever you want to call it - that allow you what seems at first to "see the future" When really what it comes down to< I think, is just being more conscious and aware in my daily life and living well and with direction and well being. This allows my powers of perception to be more accurate because I'm not clouded with self doubt or worry. Therefore the way forward and little nuances of life are more clear to me. So of course it makes sense that this will be reflected in my subconscious and transferred to my dreams.
The brain never sleeps. It just has shifts. I see the subconscious as the night shift worker. When you wake up to to do the day shift - the secret night work has been done without your knowledge or input. It's like turning up to the office when the cleaners have been in during the night.
While this all sounds pretty profound and deep - the reason I have been thinking so much about dreams this week is because of the diverse nature of mine. My subconscious is part of me - very much so. And who I am is a mixture of so many parts and roles. But the core of me is feminine. Ridiculously so.
The other night I woke up in a panic. I woke my boyfriend, S - or stared at him so long that he had no option than to wake up. My eyes must have been burrowing into his scull. I told him in hushed and urgent tones that I "had had a nightmare". He was immediately loving and protective. His arm when straight around me and his words were soothing and gently inquisitive. His male brain had probably equated the word "nightmare" with Tsunamis, earth quakes, war time torture techniques or 12 hours non stop shopping for women's apparel and home wares. So my answer "It was horrible. I was going to a party and trying on clothes and....... (it was really difficult for me to get these words out) I was.... fat!"
Needless to say he laughed so I went on to be more vivid, "I looked like Monica from friends when they were reminiscing about her teenage years and put her in a fat suit". He got it. He is intelligent and empathetic and he understands women. He also knew it wasn't the time to get amorous. I was still visualising myself as a giant Raggedy Ann Doll with a KFC fetish and was not feeling overly sexy.
Let's get something straight here though. I wouldn't say I was a shallow person. Not at all. In fact the day before the nightmare (I still defend the right to call it a nightmare) I had had such a profound and beautiful dream about one of my friends that I had text her at 6am to tell her about it. Now H is a good friend (hence being able to text at 6am) and the dream was right up her/my ally. It was quite spiritual and meaningful in only ways she and I and those close to her would understand. I won't go into it here as there is SERIOUSLY nothing worse than people who tell you all about their dreams - and I have used up my quota already I think. But I'll just touch on it so as dreams ARE the whole point of the blog so at least I have some leeway. At the end of the dream I put H on a bus. I told the bus driver to look after her and made him change the number of the front of the bus and stood by to watch him do it. The number was 39. She drove away and I watched the bus go round a windy cliff road and called out to the driver to take care of her.
H emailed me yesterday to say that the number 39 means "You are being helped by the ascended masters, who are strongly encouraging you to work on your life purpose right now. "
Now H is very much on a life course at the moment. And while I do not profess to be an "Ascended Master" (God forbid) I was obviously tapping into her journey and spiritual path. To balance things out though - it was the very next night that I had the nightmare and the Paris Hilton like hissy fit over body size and HIDEOUS orange striped jeans. I cannot tell you how disgusting they were - and I was looking for a black polo neck woollen jumper to go with them (??????)
My subconscious was advising me that I was no spiritually enlightened guru. It reminded me that some of my deepest fears are of developing very bad fashion sense and/or an eating disorder.
So, unless people also want to know about the latest Allanah Hill catalogue as a side issue, I don't think Deepak Chopra has to worry about getting another day job.
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