Wednesday, 7 October 2020

Dream journal: Twenty-nine

This is the twenty-ninth in a series of posts chronicling dreams I have had. As usual, the date shown is the date the dream was captured. This is usually the morning after the night the dream took place. You can’t wait very long before capturing a dream because it soon disappears from memory.

9 May 2020

Had a nap just before midday and dreamt I was swimming around the ocean and it was covered in newsprint. The pages were arrayed in neat rows, with water between their edges; they were arrayed in uniform ranks, held in place by a mysterious force I couldn’t perceive or understand. 

I was taking other pages with writing on them to place in the sea of paper, at a location a bit distant from where I was and off to the left. I can’t remember, now, what messages were on the paper I was transporting but at one point I was swimming with, on my right, a brightly-coloured outpouring of water coursing downhill (it was the sea but there was, also, an incline descending to my left) appearing from beneath a tarpaulin that had been somehow suspended over the expanse of water. I remember understanding – as if someone had spoken the words directly into my ear, though there was no-one nearby – that the outpouring of coloured water represented the opinions of Australians, and it was toxic. I had flippers on my feet, and I paddled on my stomach past the stream of green and blue water. 

Elsewhere, I swam amid objects in a patch of foul-smelling water, and here the newsprint was not as regularly spaced as it was elsewhere. In fact there were large gaps with nothing but calm water that I swam through, but I hastened away from this area as well. The pages I had in my hands were to be spread out in another part of the sea and, full of hope, I swam off to my left, kicking my webbed feet, heading for my destination.

10 May 2020

Dreamt I was enrolling in a course of study at a university. The course was engineering, and I had to select classes in units of study from a set of brochures that were given out at the department office. I had an index card to write the days and times on, the UoS codes, and the names of the UoS’s.

I had to get this information from the brochures. I held them, like a stack of papers, in my left hand. They were held together, each group of them in a bundle, with paper clips. First, I had to read the information on the brochure, then I had to find a class time that suited my schedule, and then I had to write down details on an index card. For one class the available times and locations were in a country town near Lake George (near Canberra, Australia’s national capital), and, I imagined, I would have to drive almost all the way to that city to attend them. 

This class had something to do with sheep, so evidently by this time I was enrolling in an agriculture degree. I found nothing puzzling about this change of plan, and simply tried, using a pen and the index card, to write down the required details while, all around me, other students were doing the same. In fact, they were doing it much faster than I was. They were all younger than me – I was, in the dream, about the same age I am in real life – and I remember being amazed by their speed and focus. 

I was having a lot of trouble just grasping the meaning of the UoS titles let alone putting the codes in the right places. At one stage I was writing, over the top of what I had already written, the date – in the format “day/month”, the Australian way – making the numbers, due to the number of repetitions required to make them clear, almost impossible to decipher. Was it a four or a one I had written with my pen? I couldn’t make it out. Such confusion made it even more difficult to schedule things properly. If I couldn’t read what I had written, I said to myself, how was I supposed to make a clean list and get all the classes organised on my index card? 

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