Dreams

My dreams are coming back to me. I am dreaming again. And that's good, it means I'm not using drugs or consuming vast amounts of alcohol like I have in the past.

I keep a journal of my dreams, the significant ones, I'm not the first to do so, and if you read them through you'd likely think I was crazy or special. I like to think I'm special.

The value of dreams is debatable, it's constantly debated or cherished or tossed off by one theoretician or another. For me, my dreams have great value, inspiration. They often make me very happy--casting a light on my day, even many days--or very depressed, sending me back into the darkness. They make me think. I can only hope the same for you.

I've been recording my dreams for nine years. Here's last night's three part dream and the dream from nine years previous, the first entry in my journal, as they are, unedited:

July 18 2003 - look out window (dorm?)->group of black people->see me and chuck tons of stones, breaking many of my windows...tell Dad, he comes over, go down street + approach (same?) group, he ends up shooting one.

July 18 2012 - (1) Indoors, I think I see/hear ghost outside, maybe in the garage. Then it starts raining wildly. A heavy trickle of water comes into living room from ceiling, then from places all over house. I'm afraid house will cave in, be flooded; rush upstairs, calling for Henri, but can't find him.

(2) I'm Jim Morrison; I walk through the crowd, go backstage. Certain forces impair my ability to walk, I crawl along against gravity, ask people to help/push me forward. I just want to get to the stage. Meanwhile I score a couple nickle bags of weed. Another dude hands me a couple of his 'special' joints, which are horribly rolled--very loose, they go up in flame and I barely get high.

(3) Manager Chris giving me ride home in p/u truck. We're talking, he mentions he comes from area where I know Mothman Prophesies to be from--I ask if he's read it + he gets a weird look, like he doesn't want to talk about it. I ask again + then look out the windshield, up into the sky ahead of us--I notice an orangish speck flying up there. Then the speck/ball divides into three, these fly off in different directions. I ask Chris to stop car + get out. I see another up there + it acts the same way--they travel fast. I ask Chris + he's seen them too. We're in a housing dev. + I notice 3-4 adults conversing in front of a garage. I go over + ask if they've seen anything in the sky + they have! It seems the whole neighborhood's abuzz. By this time I notice Chris has driven off, leaving me stranded. I go into a house, come across some Hollywood directors/producers all laying around a room, they know me. I talk w/ them. Go outside--it's the 1970's, I'm in Hollywood Hills. There's a scooter-thing by the curb up the street + I get on + ride off clunkily, go up a hill. I still think I see those specks in the sky. They seem to be all over up there. I turn around, go back down hill--owner of scooter is waiting. I hand it over to a girl, explain how it works (brakes are testy, etc.), she drives off. Owner points to cup on ground, suggests I drop some change in there + leaves. I drop in some change for her troubles.