Ever-declining sleep quality lately has blessed me with a preponderance of dreams turning lucid; most recently, I was lying on a grassy, featureless field, and decided I wanted to see a magpie. I painted one on the ground in front of me, with big brush strokes of my mind, and it started to sing; I could reach out and just barely touch it, feeling it light on the back of my fingers like aether. As I continued to paint, my intention settled that it should be younger, and its song turned into a baby’s meeps.

Not been in touch in many years — lost in the friendship group rift after a breakup — but we were once close, and would stretch time and plans to see each other when we’d be on the same continent.

In the imaginal, we were both at some kind of chill gathering, a quiet house party, and it was wrapping up. It’d be the last time I’d see them before they were due to fly out, and we had a corner of the room to ourselves.

I remember gently resting my head against their chest, and then — looking into each other’s eyes — very tenderly and gently sharing affirmations of our mutual love.

Missed you.

my dreams press in on me

acumulando

un till i more often reminisce of them than of this

they bubble to the top, and over

Sometimes I wonder if I let myself get pushed or pulled around by dreams too much, but there’s something appealing about the inscrutability of allowing yourself to follow a path that’s been opened up for you, rather than demanding to try to understand one’s every little motive. Most of our reasoning’s made up post-hoc anyway, right?

(quoted from an email I sent a little while ago)

I dreamt of her, fractally.

I dream of her often enough, but lately the edge had been taken off, no heavy meaning invested, instead accompanied by a casual lightness that never really graced our actual relationship with its presence.

This time, though, it was her, her, her, and me, apologising, reaching through one dream and into the next to try to make contact, to establish some connection, to get the message through that I wished more than anything it hadn’t gone that way. In one level she had bleached her hair, same as me; we were dancing in a circle and Niki (?) pointed her out to me, just behind me.

At the end of the dream I was apologising to Niki, saying I needed to go out on a motorcycle ride with her at short notice, having finally reconnected.

Ugh.