Frustration: a dream

I am at this party, and it is on the street I currently live on with people I have now known for about two years. We’re drinking and partying and I change into sweats because it really is no big deal.

I come across this british lad, and it comes up in conversation that I happen to know a few handfulls of brits from my time in Ecuador. He mentions he has come with two of his “mates” that were in Ecuador this summer. I turn around and it is two of my favorite people from my time there. I give them quick hugs and explain I will be back later.

I spend the rest of my dream hunting down my jeans to replace the sweatpants so that I can look acceptable for them and don’t get to spend any time with them at all. DESPITE the fact that whilst in Ecuador I rarely wore makeup and was often in sweats (as were most of us).

Stupid dream.

After waking up because my room last night was full of paint fumes (I painted 2 hours before going to bed – somehow I expected a more interesting dream) I go back to sleep and my unconcious decides to grace me with a new dream…

I am making some sort of craft for mother’s day on a bench opposite of a swamp. I keep requiring things that are on the other side of the swamp (american flag, peanuts, apple juice, sour candy keys, loaves of bread??) and each time I cross the wet, sinky, smelly swamp and retrieve the item and return to my table I find I need another item from across the mess. I spend my whole dream going back and forth across this wretched swamp.

Frustration.

Dasani

This dream was unexpected last night… being that I was under the influence of boxed wine – it may have been the sports car driving or perhaps the excess of “real names” I was introduced to. But here it is – brief and disturbing.

The dream begins with me laying on a big lawn, the entire thing covered in burnt grass and I am extremely worried that in my drunken state I somehow failed to make it to a bed and found a field in the wild. I get up and start walking to what appears to be a house in the distance but as I get closer it morphs into a horse (I am not lying – my mind actually did this to me).

The horse tells me (in a planet earth documentary voice) that henceforth I will be known as “Dasani” (as in the water – this definitely came from earlier when I was drinking wine out of a water bottle). It is at this point that I woke up and had to find a bathroom.

Most books have a storyline

Last night, for the entire night, I dreamt I was reading.

There was not a storyline, and I couldn’t even give you a genre for my dream-book to be categorized under. I dreamt last night of the fundamental act of reading. The firing of synapses, perception and interpretation (but without material to percieve or interpret).

If I were to attempt a visualization of this dream, I guess it would be a completely black world with words flying up in front of me akin the the beginning of Star Wars movies (my words are, of course, of classier font).