as written up on this site: click to view A Midwinter Night’s Dream Escaping from a Festival/ Night Thoughts Brexit Dream 3 When the Past Haunts the Night Eleventh Child University dreams to be continued
Category: dreams
Escaping from a Festival
We're a bunch of old friends from University days, on our way to somewhere in Wales, in an old Land Rover. Without our copy of The Readers Digest Book of Roads (400 pages), cross-referenced to signposts, we'd have had no chance. Our route takes us up hill and down dale, in a maze of narrow… Continue reading Escaping from a Festival
Brexit dream 4
I was going to call this “The Vision of Perfection”, I’ll try and explain later. But then I jotted down the outline of a confused dream I’d just woken from. An interpretation slowly took form. To dream it at all seemed exhausting. There was a great deal of fruitless effort was being made, seven nights… Continue reading Brexit Dream 4
When the Past Haunts the Night
Lighten our darkness, we beseech thee, O Lord; and by thy great mercy defend us from all perils and dangers of this night ... I find myself surprised to discover that the boarding school* I was so glad to leave in 1954 is actually still open for business, run by the same headmaster and his… Continue reading When the Past Haunts the Night
Eleventh Child
I woke in the night after a dream, went downstairs to jot it down in the great leatherbound book from Margaret in Canada; then went back to bed and slept again. On awakening once more in the morning, I jotted down another dream. I tried to polish up the drafts into something coherent, but it… Continue reading Eleventh Child
University dreams
Continued from "How I came to inhabit this body". I’d been accepted for some Civil Service or academic post, it wasn’t clear which or what. A colleague from a different department invited me for a chat, a sort of all-day induction. He was such good company that I felt guilty to be getting paid for… Continue reading University dreams
Black Books
In reality I don’t have a front garden, just a concreted area big enough to hold four bins, for the separated recyclables, and a few plant pots. It also serves to provide a seven-foot gap between our front door and the sidewalk. There’s no separation from our neighbours’ concreted front area, and their front door… Continue reading Black Books
Brexit dream 2
Yesterday I succumbed to a feeling of exhaustion, after the strain of the last few days, which got to me in spite of trying to detach from it, for I knew that the situation was not mine to untangle. So after breakfast I went back to bed and succumbed to a blessed emptiness. After a… Continue reading Brexit dream 2
Brexit dream 3
I dreamt about Clive again, along with two other friends. We’ve been on a trip to Brussels (as I did with school friends in ’58): the headquarters of the European Union. Now it’s time to go back. Our Metro train has just arrived at Brussels Midi, the terminus for the Eurostar train to London. You… Continue reading Brexit dream 3
Brexit Dream 1
Just woke up. Before it fades to oblivion must write down my dream, about our great national Referendum, due in a few days’ time. Shall the UK stay in the EU or leave it? I’m as strong for leaving the European Union as I was strong for Scotland to stay in the United Kingdom, when… Continue reading Brexit Dream 1
Secret Strength
When we are alert to its promptings, the unconscious mind can reach us through various means. Blake had his waking visions; many of us have dreams. They may clothe themselves in a jumble of recent experiences, yet contain latent messages ready for decoding, which may open our eyes to things our well-controlled consciousness has kept… Continue reading Secret Strength
The happy ending
A couple of weeks ago I had a visit from my headmaster*. He’s long dead of course, but dreams have something in common with memory and ghosts—which the French call “revenants”—returning ones. With no difficulty, they can span the passage of time. They can bring closure to an unresolved past, through forgiveness and understanding. Until… Continue reading The happy ending
The realm of infinite possibility
I dreamt I was dead. There was no afterlife. This “I” became a past-tense “he”, a past-tense entity, no longer part of the scene, soon to be forgotten. The dream was about that which remained: the world continuing as before, other people still there, gladness still existing. All was well, better than before, even, because… Continue reading The realm of infinite possibility
Night navigation
It was an eventful day, not without its petty annoyances, but our house-guests were happy, that’s the main thing, and enjoyed a merry evening. I was exhausted and as soon as politely possible retired upstairs. My dreams were scantily populated, and their spaces were wide. I was in a tall office building, looking for the… Continue reading Night navigation
My Dream Project
My last three posts must have acted on my subconscious like postcards from 1976, inscribed on the back "Wish you were here?", for I dreamed of that time last night. I wouldn't have the audacity to recount it without the pathfinding example of Bryan M. White’s Encyclopedia of Counted Sheep, which offers vivid proof that… Continue reading My Dream Project
Nightmare
I’ve taken a vow to post here daily, to discover what is happening to me. A million things hit my consciousness each day, so what can I mean? I shall write in accordance with blind compulsion, with no guarantee of truth, other than some poetic kind. Yet, as they used to say in the slot-machine … Continue reading Nightmare
Something of the Night
To one who follows his nose as a general principle of life, especially to seek inspiration, it matters when and where the ideas come. Most of the pieces in this blog have been conceived under the sky, preferably walking. “Sit as little as possible; credit no thought not born in the open air and while… Continue reading Something of the Night
Meeting myself
last night's dream: I have just dyed my hair orange: a sort of coppery burnt-sienna. I have decided to take up smoking again after all these years, so I leave the house to buy half an ounce of Golden Virginia and some rolling-papers. Do they still sell tobacco in half-ounces, I wonder. Perhaps I will… Continue reading Meeting myself
Hope
In a recent post, “Alchemy”, Rebb attributed a phrase to me: “a song I’ve felt since before time”. I’m sure I wouldn’t have used those exact words, but nevertheless I’ve been looking for its source. It sounds like her paraphrase for an odd experience that I’ve often tried to express in these pages: the sense… Continue reading Hope
The headmaster’s wife
Lying awake at night, it’s as though I can draw back a curtain to expose deep alcoves of memory. It takes a little perseverance. Suddenly I recall that “perseverance” was a favourite word of Monty Brummell-Hicks, the scary headmaster of my prep school, that place I was sent for ten or twelve weeks at a… Continue reading The headmaster’s wife
Ship of My Dreams
I’m not finished with the mv Rangitata, which brought me as a four-year-old from Fremantle to Tilbury. The Rangitata hasn’t finished with me either. Our acquaintance was a six-week voyage sixty years ago but memories can still be triggered; the shuddering vibration from its engines, the smells of hot paint, engine oil, bleach, disinfectant, sewage.… Continue reading Ship of My Dreams
Musical Delirium
I’ve come down with “man-flu”. In a woman it would be a simple cold but in a man it’s tantamount to dying and requires tender concern from all the females around. Yesterday morning I drove early to Babylon Town; conscientiously completed the vital tasks at the MaxiRam Corporation on which the team depends. Then I… Continue reading Musical Delirium
Mozart and Angels
I’ve been preoccupied with engineering of late, getting my hands dirty on oily metal, instead of this digital thing, tapping on a keyboard to send digital signals, using digits of the hand, co-ordinated by the eye. Coincidentally, I've been watching The Train (1964), starring Paul Scofield, Burt Lancaster and Jeanne Moreau. The drama of the… Continue reading Mozart and Angels
Dream lesson
A dream : I’ve started a new contract job, so the environment and people are all new to me. The lead consultant explains my task. He’s very bright, one of those impressive all-rounders with a “first-class brain”. I find myself speaking intelligently to him, so I feel it will go OK, despite the task being… Continue reading Dream lesson
Reality is inchoate
An early April sky amid the Chiltern Hills Inchoate: not yet made complete, certain, or specific : not perfected: imperfectly formed or developed. What we are accustomed to call “reality” is an interpreted reality, one which accords with a culture, and can be communicated in words, and shared. Our culture may assure us that reality… Continue reading Reality is inchoate
a wayfarer’s notes 