If you’re half awake while dreaming, and aware that you’re lying in bed, a dream can feel more like a memory. Sometimes it’s very obvious, once you fully wake up. But what if your dream only involved people and/or animals who are really in your life, and only mundane events that might really happen? You could ask the other people if they remember it, but even if they say no, it could have just been a moment that didn’t make it to their long-term memory. And you would never know…
Is it made real just by dreaming it? If perception is everything (or, a large part of things), and you perceive a dream as real–
In the night I lie in bed. Stars, invisible through ceilings and city air, burn through me, through the body of the earth and out the other side, until their light and life-force collides with the light from other stars. I am awake, but dreaming. My mind leads me to places fantastic and mundane, images of what will happen tomorrow and things that will never happen, specters I will never meet. Fairies chuckling and monsters shimmering. I suspect that if I saw such things in real life, I would be unable to look directly at them for fear of them disappearing, or of them being too real. And when at last I drift off, the dreams I have in sleep are fuzzy and unformed. I wake feeling unrefreshed, as if my lucid half-nightmares beckon to me, enticing me back into their world.
She feels herself move between thin sheets, nearly waking every so often. She shifts and feels her bed damp with sweat, moves to the other side of the bed. The night’s heat confuses her body; she tosses uncomfortably each minute, but cannot come out of the heat-induced stupor that invades her. She stays trapped in fever dreams.
She can hardly make sense of the things she sees. One moment things are bright and sharp, and someone speaks to her, and she answers – then she turns around and everything is in a blur, and all of the people she knows are people she doesn’t know. In a sleep that is on the edge of consciousness, she is both the character of the dream, who responds as if everything were normal, and herself, who does not understand what the dream-writer is doing or why.
And she thinks, “If I could only write something, it would help.”
But immediately turns over and continues in her perpetual haze, wasting away in discomfort and stillness.
Dutch Pinup Girl that was born in the wrong time. Lover of fifties and fourties vintage and reproduction clothing, with a slight dress addiction. Taking on the world with petticoats, red lipstick and pretty dresses.