Dreams
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Can Anything Good….
….come out of Africa? Here I am — behold me, a Southern man in whom there is considerable guile. I spent the day walking beneath a haze, a film of wind-blown filth from the dark continent. The normally sparkling mountain air was impure, casting a mosquito net of dark, obscuring Saharan dust across my green mountains and valleys. When the spattering, sporadic showers came, they left muddy smudges on the sleek surfaces they coated. My eyes and nose seemed to sting a bit, and the world felt…hidden. What are those words with similar meanings? Occult. Apocalypse. Jinx and I walked by a neighbor’s fields, and three horses gamboled in the…
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Deep Into That Darkness Peering
Over at his blog, William James Tychonievich posted about dreams and included several interesting comments from readers in the post, which he had originally shared in 2013. I enjoyed the post because it got me thinking about my own dream life, which is a maddening one. As I mentioned to William, I almost never remember my dreams, with sporadic and rare exceptions. After reading William’s post, I talked about it with my wife, who is not only a lucid dreamer but who also recalls her dreams in remarkable and consistent detail. As I’ve said many times, this ability must be contained in some chromosome that my double helix is missing.…
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The Why & The What
I have no idea what this is supposed to mean. Before awakening this morning, I was immersed in a vivid dream. In the dream, my wife and I were back at our Texas home. We were in the backyard and the light seemed to indicate that it was around dusk. While we were sitting and talking, something –moving so fast it was a blur — came into our vision. It sped past us and crashed into the window near where we were sitting. My wife and I jumped up and ran into the house. The interior of the house seemed immense, and we made our way down the halls and…
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For My Own Future Reference
I dreamed last night that I was in Norway, passing on foot through a small village at night, trying to find a road that I knew but could not name. I was nervous about slipping on the icy path, and I was burdened by something heavy in my coat and trouser pockets. People kept stopping me to ask questions or offer help — I presume, because I couldn’t understand their language — but I was unable to speak. At some point in the dream I arrived at a large cemetery and began emptying my pockets. I was carrying dozens of batteries, ranging in size from “D” down to “AAA.” I…