mymachinedream
Last night was such a dream. It happened twice now that I have dreamt of trains. I remember the last time it happened the train was in motion. Rolling alongside the freeway i was driving on. The train seemed to be frozen in space, and i was driving so fast. I remember looking over then and seeing the windows lit up from inside. People motionless, and yet keeping pace with me. This dream was a train, but nothing else was the same.
I am still here. Still frozen in place in this bed. Something changed though. Something is different. It was tiny, and at first I didn’t know what was causing me this distress. What had changed in the room i have been in so long that I can’t imagine anything in the world beyond these walls. Nothing except the dreams that I seem to live half my life in. Although lately, it seems that more than half is in these dreams that I keep returning too.
Everyplace my mind goes, i leave these trails behind me to follow back on day. Even these tiny thoughts seem to catch in my mind. They leave these memories that are like pathways to follow. Tiny lines between me and the dream. Each one seems to have a label hanging over it that can tell me when and where it goes. I know i can follow these thoughts back to the source.Continue reading
I was asleep again. Asleep and awake in the pillows. I can’t be asleep in the pillows, because there is only one pillow. There isn’t pillows in the sense of multiple pillows that I could be inside of. I have one thin pillow behind my head. It has been the same place, and it has been the same pillow. My head feels about 5 degrees, above the plane of my body. I wonder sometimes, is this the amount that some medical book says a human body should rest at? Why not flat? Why not higher?
I dreamt of the woods again. Those are such happy and peaceful dreams. It seems like the rhythm and movements are slowed to an almost frozen state. The air itself seems slow and heavy. Not heavy in the way that burdens you, but just swaddles you into some careful warmth and presses gently into your skin. It was a sunny day, and everything was starting to wake up. It was a dream of spring, and a day of life warming up and beginning to come above ground.
The trees, the deciduous trees had started to get red at the tips, so you looked through the mass of branches, and the red hue lite up the tops of the trees but it was such a nice color. My eyes knew that this was the sign that the trees knew it was almost time. The world was getting ready to wake up and the trees were pushing into the air and testing the weather. Not ready for green, but shoving the red growth out. The reverse of fall, and the green turning to red, the red would turn to green.
It was focused on dreams of copper. It was everywhere, and kept showing up on surfaces. Shining and sharp in color, it showed on so many things that it must have meant something.
It made me think that I have noticed my dreams aren’t of gold and silver, but copper comes again and again. This one seemed to see plates built of copper, and pennies. Strange that something so common can stand out so clearly.
I have been spending the last few days trying to figure out what is going on. I can’t tell if this is a prison, or if the whole thing is just a dream that I can’t wake up from. I noticed that the dreams i do have never seem to show my face. Never seem to show a reflection in anything that you would normally expect. I know that I should see my face back in a reflection in a window or a car, or something, but there isn’t anything there at all.
My mind keeps going into itself. I keep returning to these same thoughts over and over. Like a note that keeps playing in my mind. Everything i do to distract myself from this thought seems to end up pulling me back. So maybe that is something. Is this what i am supposed to think about? Will it stay in my mind until i have looked at it from every angle? Smoothed out the rough edges and sanded it down to a sphere?
I was breeding beetles last night. I had buckets of them. Buckets of larva, crawling and seeking food. Buckets of pupae, turning into something new. Buckets of beetles, scratching and scritching looking for mates.
It is fading. Already it is fading and falling away. So strange how the moments like this fall away. The sounds and the smells seem like the would never leave my mind. Like I would spend the rest of my time on earth thinking of this one thing. Over and over, and repeating in my mind that moment. But it washes away. Sooner than I think it would go. Where does it go, when it falls away from my mind. What falls away first.
I keep wondering what i lose first. What part of the dream, what part of the memory fades first. It seems the first thing i lose is the sound. I remember so many memories, and find myself filling in the sounds around what I know the sound must have been. I remember what rain sounds like, and my brain just puts the sound of rain into my dreams. But this, the first thing going is the feeling. The touch and the sense of pressure. I remember from just a moment back that I could feel the pressure of my stomach and the feeling of tightness and skin. Now though, i can’t remember the exact feeling.
The smell though, i remember the smell. It was coming from this white spread across his skin. He smelled like new bread. Yeasty and fresh. The smell of all growing things, of a health i can’t remember anything in the world smelling like. If this was a smell of the beginning and the smell of all wholesome thing. It is so hard to explain. So hard to put some basic things into words. How to explain something so pure and unique. It wasn’t like yeast and bread, but my brain thought that was the smell. It reminded me of earth, but that wasn’t the smell. It smelled clean, but also not clean. How can one thing have so many different descriptors.
This memory like everything else is receding. Falling away and slowly becoming background. Memory that will still be tucked away, but like a silent movie. No sound or feeling or connection, just this thing there sitting in my mind. I remember reading a book somewhere that tells that the more that you think about something, the more it isn’t real. Your mind can’t remember all the details and starts to replace things. The sounds weren’t right. Then your mind goes about convincing you that they were that way the whole time. Then you can’t remember anything but what you inserted into the memory.
I know this is what is happening to me. As i speak, my mind is filing away all these moments, and is replacing them with things that are false. And then my brain can’t remember that they are false, and goes about rebuilding them and convincing itself it is true.
Will i forget my son? Will i forget the smell of new bread that came off his skin so clearly? What happens to this, and was this real in the first place? Can someone bring this back to me to remember.