It must be Tuesday, Middlespace Cadets, because I'm answering your questions
Q: Dear Ty,Yesterday we talked about your "own funeral" dream from a couple of nights ago. Now I had one about my own funeral just last night. I suppose I was influenced by pondering your dream and our ensuing conversation, but unlike you, I'm completely skeeved-the-hell-out. What gives with dreams, Ty?
- Curiously Dreamy
Ty: Good question and an even better observation, Dreamy. Curiously, yesterday was one of those rare "convergence days." And the topic of this convergence was dreams and dreaming. Yes, I did discuss my "own funeral" dream with you and a couple of others. It was fascinating and thought-provoking. Sorry to creep you out though.
Here are the three unconnected items that comprise yesterday's convergence:
But if I am recovering from some trauma or emotional distress, then it must be of the repressed-memory variety. Oh my! So to avoid any premature self-reflection or discussion here, I pledge to look into this more. Really. Right after I do something about my hands. Hot wax treatments (And you got the hotwax residues/You never lose in your razor blade shoes)! It's now on the list and I'll write about it. OR not.
But back to Dreamy's question though, what gives with the dreams? What does give with dreams? Just cognitive self-stimulation? Or a window to the sub- or unconscious? Just had that discussion with B about dreams; the "what are dreams, anyhow" discussion. "Just the brain keeping busy at night," I said.
Dunno. I've always had a healthy relationship with my dreaming and with sleeping well in general. I'm not even disturbed in the least with my "own funeral" dream. Par for the course, as Eldrick Tont would say. I try to remain involved with remembering and discussing my dreams. I love dreaming. What gives, Dreamy? We are stimulated externally, internally, historically, and emotionally. The brain never sleeps like rust or NYC. Do dreams mean anything? Not really. Means you were dreaming. I suppose I possess an overly-simplistic relationship with my dreams, but that serves me so well.
And after browsing the Jung book, I did notice a startling, shocking and awe-inspiring similarity to Rickey Powell's Hello, Johnson work ("2. A Story in Parts" in particular). Who knew:
Just a guess,
-ty
P.S. Appt. set to have wrist checked.
P.P.S. Tomorrow at tKoL: Eldrick Tont and Barack Hussein: my favorite half-breeds under a microscope.
Here are the three unconnected items that comprise yesterday's convergence:
MORNING: I recalled that I dreamed that my estranged father, my dead grandmother, and dead uncle (among others unspecified) attended my funeral. In the dream I observed most of the proceedings from a "sealed room." That is, I could see out but no one could see me. And while I am certain that this room represented my coffin, I was able to walk around. I understood that my quiet and efficient "attendant" was there for my comfort. I was wearing formal clothing.Dream theme converged, mo-fos! Trifecta of dreaming; November 30, 2009:
My grandmother and uncle were of the age I last remember them. But, interestingly, my father had aged considerably. I wanted to tell them everything was cool but, meh, I was dead and...what can you do? I know, totally RIP Ty :(, right?
AFTERNOON: There I was talking to Seany Hi-Def on the IMs when Rastafari USPS Letter Carrier JimyJam brought a box to my door. I assumed the Amazon dot com box contained the microscope I ordered for B for the holy days and put the box away downstairs. But after B asked what was in the box and pondering the weight of that box several hours later, I decided it was way too heavy for a plastic microscope so I opened it up for inspection.
Enclosed therein was a beautifully wrapped gift. The card read, "Ty: I wanted this for myself so I got it for you" or something like that. Wrapped and delivered to me was Carl Gustov Jung's Liber Novus--the Red Book from Big Dave Wave (whose birthday is December 11, hook the boy up)! Thanks, Big Dave Wave!
EVENING: Professor Mark sent a note that said, "Check out the piece on Nightmares in the NY'er from a few weeks ago. Big Bad Bill Domhoff is featured as a dream expert." Professor Mark and I attended and met at the same University and we both know Dr. Domhoff from small times. He's The Dreams Guy of the psychology board of studies. In the article, Domhoff discusses imagery-rehearsal therapy and contemporary scientific thinking about dreams.
1. Dreams of my father.Jung wrote that art expression and images found in dreams could be helpful in recovering from trauma and emotional distress. I suppose one could argue that my art or portions of my arts come from my dreams, but I'm not sure about the trauma and distress. I mean, sure, I have had my share of shit, but I'm pretty certain I'm currently in a place of calm and safety. Now maybe, one could argue, I'm finally at a place where I can focus on and get closure upon trauma and distress of the past. Interesting.
2. Jung's Red Book.
3. New Yorker: Nightmare Scenario - How to turn nightmares into good dreams.
But if I am recovering from some trauma or emotional distress, then it must be of the repressed-memory variety. Oh my! So to avoid any premature self-reflection or discussion here, I pledge to look into this more. Really. Right after I do something about my hands. Hot wax treatments (And you got the hotwax residues/You never lose in your razor blade shoes)! It's now on the list and I'll write about it. OR not.
But back to Dreamy's question though, what gives with the dreams? What does give with dreams? Just cognitive self-stimulation? Or a window to the sub- or unconscious? Just had that discussion with B about dreams; the "what are dreams, anyhow" discussion. "Just the brain keeping busy at night," I said.
Dunno. I've always had a healthy relationship with my dreaming and with sleeping well in general. I'm not even disturbed in the least with my "own funeral" dream. Par for the course, as Eldrick Tont would say. I try to remain involved with remembering and discussing my dreams. I love dreaming. What gives, Dreamy? We are stimulated externally, internally, historically, and emotionally. The brain never sleeps like rust or NYC. Do dreams mean anything? Not really. Means you were dreaming. I suppose I possess an overly-simplistic relationship with my dreams, but that serves me so well.
And after browsing the Jung book, I did notice a startling, shocking and awe-inspiring similarity to Rickey Powell's Hello, Johnson work ("2. A Story in Parts" in particular). Who knew:
Just a guess,-ty
P.S. Appt. set to have wrist checked.
P.P.S. Tomorrow at tKoL: Eldrick Tont and Barack Hussein: my favorite half-breeds under a microscope.
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