The Thread of Unconsciousness

Why Record Dreams

Quick answer, you’ll never remember them if you don’t.

If you don’t remember your dreams, you won’t be open to lucidity and even if you did become lucid in a dream, there’s a good chance you’d forget by morning.

So when I got up after 3 hours of sleep to pee, I fought against my strong desire NOT to record my dream. First of all, I only remembered one bit, and it was unpleasant. My ex was in it. So why bother? I’m tired and that’s 1-10 minutes I could be sleeping!

But I picked up the voice recorder and began…

Dreamt my ex was back… No wait, in the dream, my dead uncle was still alive and he somehow either brought her out of a coma or resurrected her and carried her up a ladder to a place she could recoup. Since I have remarried, I was annoyed to some extent with my uncle for doing this, and since the dream jumped forward and he was now dead again, HE didn’t have to deal with the awkwardness and situation.

So I walked into the bizarre arcade, amusement park, candy store, and saw my ex wearing a helmet and playing some sort of race arcade game. I walked past her to where my wife was playing a separate game. Looking at the two, I was incredibly uncomfortable. I walked over to a strange, clear-topped, Rube Goldberg-like fun factory chest for dispensing candy. Shoots and slides lit up and gumball ferris-wheels turned. I considered putting some money into it, but I wanted a free sample of the candy first, so I lifted the lid.

BAM! I was hit in the face with a sort of projectile, weaponized candy-spray, edible silly string, gumballs and sprinkles! I chewed the candy that was now in my mouth and pulled some out of my hair.

“I’m NOT paying for that,” I thought to myself.

I turned and we all walked out ofthe arcade and down a hall, where we met up with friends and family. Apparently my face had stiffened on the outside into my smile/grimace from the candy spray hardening.

“See? You’re looking happier now! Guess everything’s okay then?,” someone asked.

“I look like I’m smiling? That’s funny, cause I’m actually frowning right now.”

They didn’t believe me, so I stopped in front of a large wall meant for projecting films onto. I got someone to play an angry scene from a Frankenstein’s monster movie that doesn’t actually exist, and I laid on the floor and reinacted the scene, attempting to show how anguish would still look like happiness.

Afterwards, however, everyone applauded. By now my ex and family disappeared and friends replaced them as we sat down in the lobby. A security guard I initially mistook as a cop walked up. An estranged, distant friend was talking about how boring his job was, but at least he got to project movies. The guard was jealous. My friend then bragged that he was able to have sex in the projection booth during the movies, and we feigned amusement, but I turned to another friend wondering, “Is he for real?”

All that from the smallest nugget of memory when I first woke up to pee. It just kept unravelling and unravelling. And, while awkward and uncomfortable, it had some amusing and interesting moments, so it was worth the 8 minutes of recording.

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