Tag: dreams

Messages From My Subconscious

I often feel like my dreams are trying to tell me something. Not ominous messages from the deep unknown or anything so mystical, but simply insights from my subconscious mind. I'll have arguments over religion, lose my job, find out a loved one has died... little, emotional pushes to prepare me for inevitable future events. And this morning I had one of those dreams, perhaps inspired by this recent sketch. In my dream I was walking through an unfamiliar and lavish apartment, filled with sketchbooks and unfinished paintings. And I understood that these pieces were all mine from many years ago, but all I could think as I looked at them was "I could never paint that." I became very frustrated flipping through half-finished works, each grander and more ambitious than the last. And I knew I could never finish them and I kept thinking, "How did I ever start this?" I woke up depressed. I often say this to myself, that I was a better painter 15 years ago than I am now. That I was a more creative artist. No one agrees with me - I think this is just one of my own particular angsts.

[Regency London]
And it wasn't until a half an hour later that I finally understood what the real message was. I was thinking of the last painting I had looked at in my dream: an 1820s table surrounded by laughing guests, each person based on myself and horrible people I once knew (the frivolous and petty upper class of Regency London being an astute visualization of the villains of my own social past). And it abruptly occurred to me that I *could* paint it, if I wanted to. It would just require a lot more time and preparation than I'm accustomed to.

It was in that lucid moment that I realized that I am constantly sabotaging myself with inhibitions. I never try anything too big or too ambitious. A mental block far below even my conscious thought process just crosses those ideas out and says: "No, that's too hard for me." In drawing my comic I have often found myself forced to draw things because the story calls for it - difficult angles, buildings, trees, cars (*shudder*). And I do it because I have to. And it's painful and I fail a lot. But in the end I do it anyway.

And that's what's different between the artist I am now and the one I was when I was younger and couldn't draw worth crap. I never told myself no. I think that's a pretty damn brilliant insight. Way to go, subconscious. You deserve a cake.
Posted 2008.09.26 10:24 | Last modified 2011.03.02 13:42 | 2 Comments

Dreams of Falling

I hear dreams of flying are almost universal among humans, like dreams of teeth falling out or going to school naked. But I've never had a flying dream. Instead, for as long as I can remember, I have had this dream of falling.

It's a very specific dream: I am driving up a steep mountainside on a switchback road. I am going very fast and I have a passenger or two in the car with me (this part varies, depending on whom I'm living with at the time of the dream). I hit one of the corners and it's pretty close, so I slow down. But no matter how hard I hit the brakes, it's not enough for the next turn, and the car just sort of *slips* off the edge. And down we go, in a calm arc, just like a cartoon. And I'm not scared, but I feel this terrible regret, that this is the end and that I was responsible.

Not surprisingly, I have a terrible fear of switchback roads. I suppose I could be sensible and interpret this dream in a Jungian fashion and point out my fears of being responsible for other people, or perhaps the lack of control I feel over my own life. Maybe we can bring my mother into it somewhere, hmmm? But no, I've always been very literal and mystical about the dream: this is how I'm going to die.

Ten years ago I was driving back roads to visit the Grand Canyon when the road all too abruptly went from dull and flat to one little sign noting a speed decrease to a sudden, terrifying drop. I slammed on the brakes and there it was: the mother of all switchbacks. My nemesis. http://www.midwestroads.com/otherstates/mokidugway/. It was a good thing that it was such a rapid drop in elevation, because I don't think I started breathing again until I hit the bottom.

I didn't die, of course.  You'd think that would have helped, but my dreams are actually worse now (more video footage to draw from) and driving down even tiny switchbacks sends me into flashbacks.  Someday.  Someday that cliff is gonna get me.  And you'll know what I'll be thinking when I go down.

Oh no, not again.

Posted 2006.07.03 13:48 | Last modified 2006.07.03 13:48 | Leave a reply

Love is Fleeting

Every now and then I have romantic dreams involving media stars.  The weird thing is that - apart from my occasional Danny Elfman fantasy - they are never about people that I am even remotely interested in when awake.  A year ago I had this dream about the actor who played Frasier's brother Niles, David Hyde Pierce.  And the fact that I thought the character's name was Miles and that I had to look up the actor in Wikipedia should reinforce my claim that prior to this dream, I had never, ever, ever had the slightest romantic interest in this actor.

Nonetheless, I had this nice, little dream where we met and fell in love.  A simple, straight-forward affair with none of the drama of a Harlequin Romance and not even the lengthy development required in my personal dating experiences.  Dinner, a nice kiss, done.

But for the next two days I was infatuated with David Hyde Pierce.  I thought he was so adorable and sexy.  I wanted to see more films with David Hyde Pierce.  I wanted to watch old Frasier reruns.  It was shameful.

And then, as abruptly as the infatuation occurred, it disappeared.  On the third day I woke up and if offered David Hyde Pierce or a piece of peppermint (which I'm allergic to), I probably would have opted for the peppermint, because at least it's a pretty color.

So I take this as a cautionary lesson in love.  It can be nothing more than a simple, sleep-triggered, neuro-chemical reaction which only lasts as long as it takes your liver to filter it out again.

 

Posted 2006.02.23 17:13 | Last modified 2006.02.23 17:13 | 1 Comment

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