It’s been ages since I updated
this thing. I’ve had a handful of memorable dreams in that interval
that I’ve neglected to record. In general, I don’t remember my dreams
well these days but, hmmmm, maybe it’s not just that clear recollection
makes a relatively complete record possible. Maybe it can work the
other way around as well. So I am jotting down very very fragmentary
recollections in the hope that this practice will anchor some more
fragments in the dream stream.
I’ve dreamt about the Ice Queen twice almost consecutively (last
night and Monday night). What is notable about these dreams is how low
key they were. Dreams about her normally pack an intense emotional
charge (which doesn’t guarantee my waking mind will be able to retrieve
or reconstruct them). The first dream is like a reversal of the
nightmare I had before I wrote to her two summers ago: I’m part of an
audience at a lecture she’s giving and I don’t understand a thing. It
would be facile to say that this is an oneiric expression of my
inability to make sense of her responses in waking life. In waking
life, that incomprehension drives me to despair; in the dream, I’m
simply bored. Of the second IQ dream I recall only one detail: she had
a brother who was a werewolf. Again, the most natural interpretation is
facile: this could just be my dream showing me the misgivings I’ve had,
wondering what I will face in her household when I go there. A slightly
less facile analysis would be that the werewolf is a figure for the
dualities I perceive in her: so supernally beautiful, so insouciant and
vindictive.
Between these two dreams, I dreamt I was in some kind of complex with
Matty and his new wife (whom I’ve never seen in waking life). I wander
off by myself and at one point become apprehensive because I realise
I’ve forgotten my spectacles. I rush back to look for them, panic over
not finding them, then take a breath and realize that my vision is tack
sharp. A good metaphor for a number of things.