Tag Archives: dream

Last Night [FREE WRITE]

28 Dec

Dream Journey

Dreams are limited by the dreamer’s conscious experiences. Senses inform consciousness during the waking day; consciousness informs senses during dreams.

A sensation, that is, a fully integrated internal inclination, a feeling, fills in the blank slate of logic like a white canvas oozing bold colors.

Third morning of sickness within the past week. Today I leaned out the side of the city bus, relieved my sickness, and sat back down inside the bus. Another time, I woke up a fingernail past sunrise to do reike and yoga with a friend before he left for break. We spent most of the time talking. There, in my front yard before 9 am, I started dry heaving nothing, nothing, something– definitely not food but I definitely was sick.

I had my fingerprints scanned today, all ten. Apparently, I only have 9 fingerprints. one refuses to register.  The livescan man digitally re-scanned it time and again until, finally, I am under the impression (not punny) that we just settled.

9 fingerprints. 3 mornings of sickness. A sensation. A reality? No, but the appearance of a potential.

Snake Symbol Significance in Dreams

11 Dec

Jung stated, ‘The idea of transformation and renewal by means of the serpent is a well-substantiated archetype. It is [a] healing [symbol]’ (Jung 7, par. 184)

The Ouroboros, or Snakes as Symbols of Spiritual Growth and Transformation

The ouroboros, the snake forever swallowing its own tail, is a famous alchemical symbol of transformation. Jung saw the ouroboros much like he saw the mandala, as an archetypal template of the psyche symbolizing eternity and the law of endless return. Instead of looking at life as a finite game played between the bookends of birth and death, the ouroboros symbolizes a dynamic state of change and purification.

A literal ouroboros isn’t necessary for a dream to have its symbolic meaning. Since waking life snakes routinely shed their skins, they are ready made symbols for change and transformation. Dreams where snakes shed skin or seeing snake skins in a dream also symbolize change and transformation. Old, outgrown behavioral patterns, relationships, or even careers may be sloughed off in favor of a new skin more appropriate to the dreamer’s growth.

This process of adjustment may not be comfortable. In waking life, snakes get cranky and irritable during the shedding process and the same may be true for the dreamer. All change involves the surrender of the comfortable and even when changes promise progress, trading the known for the unknown involves a disquieting abandonment of the familiar.

Dream Snakes as Fear Symbols

A lack of firsthand experience with snakes makes the serpent a creature representing a fear of the unknown. As such, snake dreams symbolize that unknown fear. The fear can be an intuitive warning or an unfounded anxiety about some undefinable, hidden something awaiting the dreamer in waking life.

Honest analysis of the waking life provides the key to deciphering snake dreams. Pursuing a life dream, especially an untried one, involves fear. It is tantamount that the dreamer considers whether that fear is founded, or if irrational anxiety is threatening the realization of a waking life dream.

Dream Journal [FREE WRITE/ RE-WRITE]

11 Dec

I have been There before in dreams. This Twilight Kingdom exists unbounded to time and space, residing in the immutable framework of what remains when the constructs and illusions of permanence all fall down. The infinite potential of its landscape is an eternal ideology. There exists in perpetual obliquity: There is, independent from the tenants and dwellers, thoughts and ideas,  that There supports.

I am Transient. My lifeline is a current that flows through the creek of a the crease between the layers of a folded world: the realms of Energy and Matter, or more lucidly, the realm of appearances and the realm of the illusion of appearances.

My life struggles to collect cohesive presence in either world all together. Thoughts, behaviors and cognitions can communicate beyond the divide but this has its disadvantages. Every thought falls from beyond the shadow of a doubt. Every feeling feigns an hysteric syndrome of unjustified dismissiveness, leading to sentimental expression weighted with the conviction of a parachute,  fastened to pack a punch in its articulation on the masked backs of thoughts or behaviors in order to cross back into the common reality. Typically, I express my feelings into the common reality using the cognitive-behavior anchor points grounded there. Thus, how I feel makes itself known in the common reality as either pieces of jigsaw logic or hasty, impulsive reactivity. Feelings are more often than not the odd man out left alone in a world outside of time in infinite space.  As a transient, I have gained access to trespass beyond the partisan, corporeal divide.

Here I appear again, as soon as I loop-swoop-disappear from There. What am I? A flippant holographic effect? An illusion? A lucid shoelace? A Pioneer? A purl stitch? Imagination my engine, feelings fuel the timeless travel, and a secret is masked behind the sensation that I am just as alive as a fragment of imagination as I am in this freckled sack of skin and bones.

I have been to this timeless location before, specifically. The dream is recurring with more depth and detail each time. Last night I was aware that I was dreaming: a transient dream and transient state, a Wanderer into a permanent place.

I: Fluxes :: There: Stasis.
I : Time Traveler :: There : Infinite Landscape.

For this reason, my subjection to my fear informed me that I am part of the corporeal, common reality world, simultaneously. There is void of fear. The present absence of fear stands out like silence within a song. I pause and my heart palpates as if it were compassionate for the stillness set in the lack of beat outside of myself, accordingly. The Fearless face There inform me that because I am experiencing fear There because I perceive the contact with one archetype that served as a fear evoking stimulus. My ear would fall deaf to the cry of my fear if my fear realized its own petty perception. If I could activate my 3rd eye to see the invisible presence of the great everything, I would see that the one fearful stimulus is actually everywhere, and all around me.

There was a snake by my foot in the dark, dusk lair of There. I was within the confines of my landlords dilapidated wooden, sunken ship of a broken series of bungalow settlements. There was a snake by my foot and I yelp for my landlords help in fear. He was working on a mast to mask the gusts of harsh winds from breaking an entry in the form of a great howl through the cracks between the wooden panels. He mentioned something about filtering  magnesium and oxides  through the mast (magnesium trapper) that the wind carries. This, he said definitively, is for our own protection.  He laughed at my irrational fear. Look around you, he said. You are surrounded by snakes. I did look, and I was surrounded by an astounding patchwork of piles of coiled snakes. He grins. How dumb to be scared of just one snake, that one snake, he said pointing to my original referent. You see one, fear that one, and are too blind to notice that what you fear is so much greater, the fears lie in piles around you. He said all of this with no fear of his pant leg touching the rattler of a snake. Get over your fear, and you can be free.

With that he vanished, and I awoke.

Dream Journal Free Write

10 Dec

I have been There before in dreams, and I am positive that this Twilight Kingdom exists beyond the relative: I think it exists; therefore it exists. Perhaps There is an archetypal idea, and the infinite potential of its landscape is an eternal ideology. Existing in perpetual obliquity: There is, independent from the tenants and dwellers, thoughts and ideas, There supports.

I am Transient. My lifeline walks the crease between the layers of a folded world: the realms of Energy and Matter, or much lucidly, the realm of appearances and the realm of the illusion of appearances. My life struggles to collect cohesive presence in either world all together. Thoughts, behaviors and cognitions can communicate beyond the divide but this has its disadvantages. Every thought falls from beyond the shadow of a doubt, every feeling feigns an hysteric syndrome of unjustified , leading to sentimental expression weighted with the conviction of a parachute,  fastened to pack a punch in its articulation on the masked backs of thoughts or behaviors in order to cross back into the common reality. Typically, I express my feelings as either intellectualized pieces of jigsaw logic or brewed into a hasty impulsive reaction. Feelings are more often than not the odd man out left alone in a world outside of time in infinite space.  As a transient, I have gained access to trespass beyond the partisan, corporeal divide.


Here again as soon as I loop, swoop pulled out of There: a lucid shoelace, a purl stitch. Imagination my engine, feelings fuel the timeless travel, and a secret is masked behind the sensation that I am just as alive as a fragment of imagination as I am in this freckled sack of skin and bones.


I have been to this timeless location before, specifically. The dream is recurring with more depth and detail each time. Last night I was aware that I was dreaming, a transient dream in a transient state as a transient passerby. For this reason, my feeling of fear informed me I was part of the corporeal, reality world, simultaneously. The people with no fear in this told me it was because I was experiencing contact with one archetype and I would numb to the fear if my fear realized its own petty perception and that the fearful stimulus as all around me. There was a snake by my foot in the dark, duck lair of this dream. I was my landlords dilapidated wooden sunken ship of a broken series of bungalow settlements. There was a snake by my foot and I yelp for my landlords help in fear. He was working on a mast to mask the gusts of harsh wind from breaking an entry in the form of a great howl through the cracks between the wooden panels. He mentioned something about filtering  magnesium and oxides  through the mast (magnesium trapper) that the wind carries. This, he said definitively, is for our own protection.  He laughed at my irrational fear. Look around you he said. You are surrounded by snakes. I did look, and I was surrounded by an astounding patchwork of piles of coiled snakes. He grins. How dumb to be scared of just one snake, that one snake, he said pointing to my original referent. You see one, fear that one, and are too blind to notice that what you fear is so much greater, the fears lie in piles around you. He said all of this with no fear of his pant leg touching the rattler of a snake. Get over your fear, and you can be free.

With that he vanished, and I awoke.

REM Free Write

9 Oct

I recognize myself outside of my self and every time this happens it feels like the first time, again. Rising Phoenix, courage and tenacity redefined daily– in you I see my curiosity: how elegant is your jaté, as you dance dawn across the silken twilight legacy of the omniscient harvest moon.

I recognize myself out of myself and every time my breath escapes me: in his eyes my spark sees her reflection; the orb of glowing noon dancing on the Willamette river; spitfire light wild and free playing trapeze with the wind and elliptical slip and swoon, graceful as the dawn of time, floating a simple song, writing its story as it makes its way.

Every time that I see myself clearly is recognizance, is the first time again: if I am not growing, I must be dead. Prism and white light, with your true and pure dynamism I see myself in you, through you. We share a what. We share the crystalline flakes of the purest substance of the what, it’s the mechanism through which our soul breathes. I was wondering if all humans are born with the same kernel of what. I think perhaps this is not the case.

The brain stem in stage four of sleep shoots off random neurons. Stage four of sleep must be achieved for the shooting spark of momentary life in the discharge of ideas because the body is in a state of temporary paralysis. I exist a millions of time I will never recall in life. What I am able to recall upon waking are often those firing that my mind makes psychological sense of. I Intuit that I can recall a memory of my dream in these cases because they are archetypal. They are recognized and registered, a reiteration in cloaked in mystery shrouded in the truth of recognizance without footprint, without real life experience rooted in the recognition.

And so i think it goes that souls and people who populate this earth and disappear as soon as they appear, a lifetime measured in breaths. Some people here contain secrets. They have souls that see the connections and intensities, the relationship and creativity, the mystery the awe the splendor the invisible the curvature the translucent multi-stratified layers and their consciousness gives re-creates the world again through their gaze, adding another dimension or 3 to a hologram surface. They recognize the structure and function of the smoke and mirrors and see through it to the blueprint behind the opaque wall. They recognize what they have yet to experience. They acknowledge the duality of opposing forces and see the people oscillating between the polar binaries like flint lit sparks from metal charged with heartbeats traveling according to the push and pull of opposing magnets. Feeling free and blind to the forces, un observable for omnipresent and powerful, rearranging the possibilities of cue balls allowing the cogs to feel free.

Some people see their place inside of the paradox and become the exception. To do so, one must surrender ones will to their predetermined destiny towards transformation and transmutation. The sensation of power in the feeling of free will is lost. But the ego no longer needs fuel. Power is food for the ego. Accepting ones moment of a life and the dual nature of the great divine orchestra performs a paradox in it of itself: the sacrifice of free will as a hole in the whole, one in a composite one, a rhizome in the universal flowering, liberates one beyond the capacity of those who believe they are free according to their will.

5 am. Still can’t sleep. really, really really hungry. store not open. can’t sleep. ill keep trying. this helped.

Dream Journal [Free Write]

24 Jul

7:36 a.m.

Scratching the surface of sleep: with the crescent of a mind, and waxing subjectivity by the by the breath, sleep stage #1 ushers the unconscious into the scenery of my minds’ eye.

I absolves into a removed viewer, leagues under the sea. Deep water, like deep space, appears black. Black as the underbelly of a weathered hand coated in oil, where only the crease and motions of sweeping lines remain self-reflective. Under the sea, these lines were the echoing treads of small fish. The Fins waving like flags in the wind, sent ripples that danced in coordination. Half-aware, half analyzing possible meaning, my phantom dream right hand began to throb: a pulsating ache combined with a hollow whistling of my joints–the chilly sensation of cold, dry wind rustling through the emptiness of an abandoned attic. Until this point “I” had no “body”;”I” could not be located.

My grandmother was sleeping upstairs directly above me, and she thinks her hand is broken. She is not typically one to make a fuss or complain, so I know her right hand is in a lot of pain. In my dream, I saw the fish of my grandma and watched the echoing treads make their way and splash into me, and I felt another pang in my right hand. Dream empathy of the unconscious.

Dream Journal Free Write

13 Jul

Pandora’s Box. Russian Doll. The maze I got lost in when I was 4 years old.

This dream is similar to those things and experiences.

Woke up, by alarm, ordered body to drag itself out of bed, put contacts in, and the body followed orders. I woke up, realized the first dragging was an illusion and I was still under covers eyes closed and all. I dragged myself up out of bed. I woke up, I realized I twice dreamed the illusion of this moment and woke up, initiating morning routine, for real, unsuctioned my eyes from the resistance of a sea muscle, latching lids, did my morning routine. I woke up, realized it was an illusion. Realized I was dreaming illusions. Despite my dream determination, the inability to turn off this cyclic entrapment inside the dream persisted, repeating waking up and reawakening up and reawakening up until another alarm went off an hour later. I got up, and have yet to wake up again from this potential illusion of a dream morning.

Why was this dream an echo of itself? Before I fell asleep videotape streamed against the green screen that is inside of closed eyes, remembering my earliest memories, dreams and nightmares. Some memories I realized what felt like the first time since they occurred: a wild experience. I closed my eyes sometime after midnight, and when I reopened then it was 1:40 am, and all of those memories and emotions parachuting them had been running for about an hour. I recall smirking to myself, because I fall asleep to The Office to distract such distractions at night. I put on the office, Gay Witch Hunt (one of my all-time favorite episodes) and coaxed myself to sleep.

And Fish Don’t Blink.

30 Jun

When you stare out into the universe, the universe stares back.

Now, imagine a fish.

The philosophical statement and the concept of a fish fit into a common associative category, or at least, it feels like the two fit together better than they don’t fit together.

I’m still reading Memories, Dreams & Reflections by Carl Jung, and once again, a simple statement he made in passing warped my mind into a whirlpool.  He was describing a dream of his with a fish which he referred to as “…an unconscious and mute fish…”

It seems strange to me that unconscious and mute were explicitly stated: both are implicit assumptions when conceptualizing a fish. From there my mind wandered, wondering if unconscious and mute were used to describe the fish as a literary function, like an inverted mirror, functioning to point out to the reader that the non-fish and human characters in the dream are vocal and conscious creatures.

When you stare out into the universe, the universe stares back; however, the sense or feeling of the universe staring back is elusive and evades all quantification and calculations that could prove this using the scientific method. Such is the way of transcendental beliefs and a test of spiritual resolve: faith is acknowledged in silence.

A fish underwater may stare at the surface, and from above one may stare back. However, the mute and unconscious fish does not know the presence as the presence knows it, sensing it yet not with a mutual understanding.

Infinity is two-sided. Staring into the universe is the infinite, and staring into the unconscious is infinitesimal: macro and micro representations of infinity.

Truth is constantly unfolding, and at this moment the above statement is my closest understanding in investigating my associate between the philosophical statement and the idea of a fish.

Midsummer Night’s Dream

30 Jun

In the 9th grade, my world literature teacher assigned a task of memorization: every student assumed a monologue or soliloquy from Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and preformed the piece in front of the class.  I was 14 years old. Eight years wedge time passed between Then and Now. Since the very day I realized that I have forgotten the monologue, the sing song meter of the lyric continues to torture me, half synced in a diluted memory.

Today, I went on a very long walk and found a paperback only bookstore that I had never seen before. With books spilling out the windows and overflowing buckets, who wouldn’t have entered? I stumbled upon a copy of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, and flipped through the pages searching for the monologue I remember that I forgot. And I found it! Finally! I read it with the fluency of riding a bicycle. I am archiving this re-discovery for myself so next time the meter sticks in my mind, I can try to recite the words right out of my head. Without further ado:

ACT II SCENE I

TITANIA:
Set your heart at rest:
The fairy land buys not the child of me.
His mother was a votaress of my order:
And, in the spiced Indian air, by night,
Full often hath she gossip’d by my side,
And sat with me on Neptune’s yellow sands,
Marking the embarked traders on the flood,
When we have laugh’d to see the sails conceive
And grow big-bellied with the wanton wind;
Which she, with pretty and with swimming gait
Following,–her womb then rich with my young squire,–
Would imitate, and sail upon the land,
To fetch me trifles, and return again,
As from a voyage, rich with merchandise.
But she, being mortal, of that boy did die;
And for her sake do I rear up her boy,
And for her sake I will not part with him.

haiku

1 Feb

dream journal hard–>dsylexia worst right after wake up jammed between toothpaste and running to early math. dream haiku so i remember:

voices cloud the sky

rain pellets of murmuring

paranoid awake

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