Dreams

One of the oddities of nature is that dreams are difficult to remember.  More’s the pity since dreams would often make the basis of good stories.  The few I can remember, anyway.

I have an odd schedule.  Being a commuter, I’m in bed by the time most people are waking up after the drudgery of work.  When I awake, it is what others call “the middle of the night.”  For whatever reason, I seldom remember dreams.

There’s a notebook beside my bed.  There’s one in my pocket while waking.  I even used to have on on the wall of the shower.  Even so, capturing dreams has remained elusive.

Scientists tell us that the parts of the brain that record memories—like the record button on a video camera or phone—are disengaged while dreaming.  It is as if our brain says, “you’re gonna enjoy this, but won’t remember a thing.”

The dreams I do remember are beset by a crazy logic where the story just doesn’t add up.  We all dream, so I’m sure you know what I mean.  Deep in that unconscious mind, however, like sea serpents, lie the basis for stories.  The unexplored.

Once in a very great while I’ll recall a dream well enough to convert it into fiction.  With dreams, that work is already mostly done anyway.  It’s just a matter of trying to make sense of it all.

In days past, and if I’m not naive, still today, some writers rely on mind-altering substances to take them to new realms.  These mind-altering substances, however, often only mimic dreams.  Our natural hardware has all the equipment we need for creativity.

Too bad that dreams are so hard to remember.  I can’t recall any over the past several months.  It’s kind of like writer’s block.  The ideas are there, but the recording of them is less than simple.

Dare to dream.  Dare to record them when you can.  They may not make sense, but when cut and dried, they often make ideal pieces of the quilt which is fiction.