Vivid lucid dreams seem to be de riguer these days. I was talking to a friend about the fact that he can remember his dreams for hours after he wakes up. I've had similar experiences with the dream state. I thought that it had something to do with the fact that I have been meditating and under a lot of stress triggered by the estate thing. As we were talking, it occurred to me that this may not be the case.
My friend has had these dreams since heart transplant surgery put him in a coma. I've been like this since I had my brush with death and staph infections. I've been listening to other people talking about how vivid their dreaming is. It's either some thing that happens because the brain is trying to process everything before the next time it gets close to death (in case no one can pull you out) or because the experience itself changes the wiring.
In either case, like I told my friend, I don't think there is a medical solution for this. I think it is permanent.
Most of the time it isn't too bad. The other morning I had a very disturbing dream. I woke to it the morning of the day I was to meet ACG. I woke at 7:30. I could still see the faces of the people involved at 11:30 when I made myself leave the house. This mornings dreams took on qualities of a set of dreams that began in the early part of 1996. Time alters all things. I saw how TC would be developed and how people who were different would be marginalized and sent off to live in a poor rural part of the county. I saw the bay paved over with the broken stumps of defunct street lights spaced through it at regular intervals. If those dreams start again while I am in this state of lucidity, I may have to go insane.
When I wake from these dreams I can feel the sensations that my body felt during the dream. The TC dreams culminate with a drizzling rain of fire. Dazzling droplets fall from the sky like the little teardrops of fireworks from some of the star burst patterns. When they fall they don't lose their heat. Trees and grass start to burn first. As it rains harder, everything is on fire. I am waist deep in the bay, just passed Greilickville, with a short white haired toy dog. I don't know who's. It takes forever to get to water deep enough to cover me. The rain falls on the dog and he yelps. A drop grazes my shoulder and the pain is beyond searing. I look up at the clouds. There are no clouds. I can see the stars through the fire fall. I know we are dead.
If I have to feel that dream more vividly than I did, I will have to loose my mind.
Have a wonderful Shabbat, Sher!
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