Dreaming is something , they tell us, we all do, whether we remember them or not. People have tried to interpret dreams for centuries, with varying results. Some, I think, are fairly obvious. I remember I used to dream about tornados fairly frequently. The dreams had different settings (a field, a road, etc.) but all had the same sequence. I would start off, travelling through an open countryside, when I saw the start of a tornado in the distance. As I ran and searched for shelter, the tornado would form and come right towards me. For all but the last two dreams, I was just about to find shelter (a gully, a basement, etc.) as the tornado was upon me, and I would wake up just before I found out if I was safe or was sucked off to Oz. The second last time I had a tornado dream, I was able to open a door and start down a flight of stairs before the tornado hit. The door shook violently, but I felt fairly safe. The last time I ever had a tornado dream, I found shelter and was deep in a safe basement, with other people I didn't recognize. By the time the tornado hit, I felt calm and safe.
I used to have another, very weird dream all the time. I always started the dream in the basement of a house, and would start to explore the house room by room. As I explored, I felt a growing sense of threat and unease. The dream would always end just as I was opening a door, and my nerves were screaming at me not to do it. I would sometimes have this dream more than once a night. The weird thing was, if I did something in the first dream, like move an object, the object was in it's new location in the second dream. I had these for a number of years as well, and I knew they were almost over when I had one dream that had me looking up a spiral staircase into the light. I wasn't out of the house yet, but I knew I was close. The second last dream I knew I was on the ground floor of the house and about to get out. I still explored rooms, but mainly out of curiosity. I remember one had a bunch of Asian monks, hovering cross-legged in front a black board, in a room that looked like a school room. I remember thinking, in my dream "no that's not it." This particular dream sequence ended literaly, with me walkong out of the door and into a grassy field. I remember looking back and seeing a red-painted wood-frame house. There was one more brief dream after this one, where I set the house on fire and said to myself "I had to do this".
Most of my dreams, however, are of the weird and amusing kind. Recently I dreamt I was the host of a local public-broadcast talk show. My first episode didn't go so well, as it was based in the small appliance department of a store, and I had no guests to talk to. For my second episode, I switched locations to a small coffee shop, located in an old house. The house had a number of shelves with small china figurines in it. My guest was Tom Petty, and I remember clearly asking Tom how a creative person got their ideas. Tom proceeded to demonstrate, by putting on a cloth octopus costume and prancing around the room as he spoke. I remember watching ceramic oraments flying as Tom pranced from side to side, including a little ceramic cowboy's head with a cowboy hat being crushed under his feet. As you can imagine, the episode was a hit.
Another dream I just had last night featured myself in Las Vegas. For some reason I was wearing a long hair extention from the back of my head. It was ponytail, about an inch and a half thick. It was obviously an extention, as it was red and my natural hair colour is greying-brown. I clearly remember whacking people with the end of my pony-tail as I walked past them. If they confronted me, I would hold the end of the pony-tail under my nose, like a false moustache, and in a phoney English accent, would say "My dear chap I don't know what you are talking about." Of course, no-one saw through my ruse.
I would have to say that probably 90% or more of the dreams I can remember are of the variety of the last two I have mentioned. Bizarre. Oddly entertaining. And probably entirely without deeper meaning, except the definite possibility that my mind is happily warped.
Unless Tom Petty actually does prance around in a cloth octopus costume when he's writing songs. If anyone can confirm this, I would be greateful.
