An odd dream….
I’m feeling a bit haunted by a dream I had this morning, shortly before waking.
I’m a bit of a believer in dreams being the way many things(including our own unconscious) can communicate with us, but rather often the meaning is harder to fathom.
I’m not talking about those random replay dreams, where the recent past is rehashed, or those anxiety dreams where we play out our fears.
I’m talking about the dreams that seem to have no foothold in the usual run of dreams. They’re often the ones we remember when we wake, and often, like today, they haunt us for days, or even years afterwards.
I dreamed I was travelling down a river, towards my home. I don’t live near a river, and never have lived close enough to one to the scenario I knew was true in the dream, that my home was only a very short distance from the water. In real life, I’d never chose to live so close to a body of water that can be so temperamental, but in the dream I accepted this as normal reality.
Until, that is, I rounded the corner of the riverbend and where I had expected to find a short stretch of water and my home a little way beyond it, the whole topography had changed. The river had become a dead end, a lagoon of cloudy water, almost like a T junction. I could go no further, unless I took to the water, and even then, I couldn’t see my home at all. The water swirled, like flood waters, full of eddies and a milky wash of clay from the fields, and I knew it to be deep and dangerous.
I turned to the left hand side, where the arm of the T led me and found that as well as the work to change the course of the river, work was in progress to build a footpath through what were fast becoming marshes. Brand new duckboards had been laid across the mud, and a new bridge, all resinous with fresh pine and larch, ended near the duckboards, the steps rising to greet me. As I approached, a woman came down the bridge steps and told me, “They haven’t finished it yet, you can’t get through that way,” and encouraged me to try and follow where the duckboards led me. I couldn’t see where the new path led, but I climbed over the foot of the bridge and began to try and follow the wooden path.
By this stage I was feeling very frustrated that I couldn’t get home and angry that “they” had changed the route without giving me either warning of the work or any alternative route to my home. The woman had vanished and I was alone again, standing below the bridge, unable to either see where to go or make a single step forward because the duckboards had given way to thick sticky mud and no path was visible at all.
Now typing it all out(I jotted it in my dream journal when I woke) I begin to see some of the themes emerging but if anyone has any insights, I’d be more than delighted to hear them. I can get so caught up in my own head I can fail to see the obvious, and unless we really are living in The Matrix and everyone out there is somehow part of my own mind, the voice of someone beyond my own self can be a very welcome addition to the melting pot.