I find the phenomenon of dreams quite fascinating. Some people dream only occasionally, while others dream a lot. I dream every night and, quite often, I have several dreams during the one night. Most of the time they’re interesting, exciting and colourful. I rarely have a nightmare, although there have been the occasional few that have made me wake up, gasping in fright. I’ve never dreamt I was flying, even though that’s supposed to be one of the most common. Nor have I dreamed of being naked in a public place, another common dream. (What is wrong with you people?!!)
I gather the common view is that dreams are the product of our subconscious minds working on our “issues”, while we sleep. (Again, seriously, some of you need therapy.) There have been numerous occasions when I have understood, almost immediately, what has prompted the night’s foray into dreamland. But then there are dreams like the one I had last night.
I was at some sort of conference/fair/Big Day Out. I was there as an ageing rock star, with literary aspirations. I performed twice. The second time there were only half as many people in the audience. I told myself it was because of everything else going on at the show, and not a comment on my performance. I spent the rest of the time hanging around with Fiona McIntosh (one of Australia’s most prolific and successful authors). I was surprised at how much we had in common. We spent a lot of time visiting the ladies in the craft exhibition, making sure they all had cups of tea. The dream ended with the scandalous news that one of the construction workers (they were still building parts of the centre) had smuggled in a gun and had “shot a whore” with it. That’s the wording used by the person telling me and Fiona the news. Although I didn’t say it in the dream I guess, technically, it was me saying it, via my subconscious.
I remember thinking how chuffed I was that Fiona and I got on so well. Earlier this year (this is true) she took a group of fans on a tour of the lavender fields of France, as a sort of promo for her latest book. My last royalty cheque didn’t quite cover the cost of my weekly grocery bill. I write that with no bitterness, whatsoever. It’s simply the truth.
Well then, have at it. What on earth is my subconscious trying to work out?
I don’t dream every night and sometimes when I do, I freak out as I have had some dreams that were clearly warning me of future events. That does tend to unsettle me a bit, especially if I have one filled with foreboding!
I have had a few that turned out to be prophetic. I find that particular sort usually repeat over several nights and are easy to recall even days after the event. It could be we have picked up subtle clues, without being aware of it. Or, it could be God. Or, it could be both. The whole business of dreaming is such a fascinating topic.
Great dream, Wendy. I only consciously dream occasionally and they usually reflect my subconscious… And, like you, I occasionally have prophetic ones. What do YOU think it means? What feeling did it leave you with?
dreammoods.com isn’t a bad site for general dream symbolism
It didn’t leave me with anything really, apart from the mild shock of hearing that the construction worker had “shot a whore”. lol. It was just one of my usual ones. I always have vivid, weird dreams. Our subconscious is a strange place.
They are weird indeed. Thankfully, I don’t think mine are the prophetic type, because I’ve kept having the same scary ones since childhood, which haven’t led to the dire events in them.
I like your point about Fiona’s earnings compared to your last royalty cheque. Sometimes I see articles by authors who display their annual salary to prove how poor writers really are, yet it’s a figure I’d be thrilled to receive.
Yes, it’s all rather relative, isn’t it.