First there was the problem. What was the problem? It had something to do with knowing. I could remember the dream, but I could not remember what the dream was about. There was an apartment very sparsely furnished, comfortably empty. We lived there and we were happy, but we had a problem and I can't remember what it was. As usual, I woke in discomfort, mildly cursing again that I could not be inured by sleep. Surely it had been long enough, I reflected, to find a comfortable position to lie down in, but it was not yet to be possible. I got up and swore off the pain killers in the drawer next to my bed. What had I just dreamed and what was the problem? I still don't know.
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1 comment:
I often have exhausting dreams and because of sleeplessness I've done one those fancy sleep studies with dozens of sensor wire connected to my head, torso etc.. The doc concluded, because I'm a creative person the general rules of sleep behavior don't apply.
On top of that, I have zero interest in the meaning of dreams. I believe dreams are nothing more than mental confetti as the brain sorts out, organizes and cleans up all the bits and pieces of sensory and neural activity we dump in our minds.
I can talk myself through pain but not the lack of sleep. Hence Ambien.
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