This last night in my imaginary life I dreamed three dreams. It was like the old riddle of the sphinx, that which has four legs in the morning, two legs at noon, and three legs in the evening: I was a child, I was a man, and I was an old man. (No, these dreams I never dreamed, not that I remember, but I imagine that they could be pieced together from those I forgot, those that I only glimpsed snatches of before I woke.) Dream the first and I was a baby of two years old, and my father was tossing me in the air and catching me, and then, he threw me up hard — and I stayed suspended up there, watching from the ceiling's height as he walked away. Dream the second where I was a man like I am today, and I heard a knock at the door. I opened it to see a beautiful woman I had never seen before say to me, "Where have you been? I've been looking for you everywhere!" Dream the third and I was in a park, sitting on a bench with my cane beside me. The Grim Reaper walked up to me, pointing to the space next to me on the bench, and asked, "Is this seat taken?"
I think perhaps dreams were ever meant to be understood. Some were meant to be followed, but ask a dream no questions. The answers you get will only get you deeper into mystery, as the questions multiply among themselves whose answers breed more questions. Now, I suppose that with these imaginary dreams I give you, I am dreaming of dreaming. I think it is what happens when you sleep too soundly for a given stretch of time, and you miss the strangeness of a sleeptime fantasy that is recalled by the waking mind. Without dreams, in sleep's oblivion, this is perhaps to placate an ancient fear — afraid of the dark, I light a match and whistle.
x
7:10am thursday, 3rd april
Wonderful visual symbolism,I can see this as a film. You should make it.
x
me?!