Upon Dreams and Rules


I’ve been trying to record my dreams, but the effort is of a ‘hit-or-miss’ nature. Most mornings I am distracted as soon as I wake up and whatever dreams might have been, aren’t.

On the days I succeed, I find myself thinking about my dreams for some time before I record them. That then leaves me to wonder how much editing has happened between remembrance and recording.

In a way, that editing-like gap between remembrance/recording represents a metaphor for the way a brain, mine, yours (most?) thinks.

Left Brain wants to be logical, wants oh-so-desperately to be taken seriously.

Right Brain is airy and sees patterns and cares little but for itself and the present moment where it might attach a belief that it can fly with a forest of snails and the colour purple. Is there a story? Does it laugh? How well does it jump?

You see — patterns of three (Right Brain), but Left Brain steps in before Right Brain runs away, and tries to make some sense of the patterns, to add in the syntax and punctuation so that others might follow.

In short, the act of recording appeases LB, while a dream’s memory, its content, feeds RB.

And Rules

There are a whole bunch of rules that arrive attached to one’s efforts to write: grammar, frequency, between lines, emphasized, secret, coded, mirror, and so on. But you could just write.

Same thing with life — lots of rules, thou shalts and thou shalt-nots, but you could just live.

Perfect Prayer

And where the heck is the perfect prayer? That would be the one that owns compassion, embraces all the joys and heartbreak, fat feasts and lean hearts, the one that changes the world.

To find that perfect prayer is like chasing rules or remembering dreams long enough to record them, like the air spun into cotton candy.