Every morning when I wake up, I find myself reeling from the dreams of the night. Getting out of bed requires pulling myself out from the quicksand of a crazy extreme world, where black is darkest black, red bleeds blood, and desire is worn on the sleeve with no shame. My dreams are mad with symbols: bright red handphone, iron grilles, two pixies cut through with a single arrow, sea cucumbers on the wall, a bicycle for two, a mirror on the wall.
Where do they come from, this pointed attack at reality? Who am I? The one who dreams, or the one who wakes?
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
Reeling
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2 comments:
Freud, I'm sure, wld hav much to say about your dreams. But being a disbeliever of psychoanalysis, i suggest that you don't worry too much about what you dream. The only reality that matters is that you're happy and well when you are wake. ;)
L
Most of my friends get weird dreams too. I guess it's a sign of an interesting life.
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