A Dream Diary #2 - March 2022

Photo by Denny Müller on Unsplash

I’ve noticed this month, while trying to remember and record my dreams in writing, that the most difficult thing to remember is the order of events. Usually, there is no clear chain of cause and effect, and rarely any logical reason for events to occur. Even though I might remember particular moments or images  from dreams very clearly, saying which happened before the other is often impossible, and my rational mind constantly attempts to manipulate them into a more logical order than they originally had.

 This is particularly true of the entry for 12.3.22. There was a definite end - I remember it clearly as it was extremely unpleasant and very symbolic of my waking state of mind at the time, as many parts of my life were spiralling towards an ending. But as for the rest of the dream, I had no idea of the sequence of scenes, so simply did my best to write it up with some kind of order.

 Time seems less important in dreams than in our conscious life – perhaps because we cannot hang our memories of dreams so easily on a definite structure of cause and effect. Our usual measuring stick for the passing of one moment to another appears useless in the disorganised babblings of the unconscious mind - in hindsight at least.

 An interesting side note to the above: Less than a week after my dream of 12.3.22, one of the events from it actually played out in real life, as I accidentally knocked a roll of toilet paper into the toilet. Maybe dreams are so timeless they can actually point to future events – the idea of dreams as prophecy has been a popular one throughout the history of humanity. But perhaps this is just part of the illusion of the narratives we create to make sense of our lives. Perhaps my unconscious mind was simply aware of my current muddled state, and the potential for such clumsiness to occur. Certainly, the many references to tidying up messes in all the dreams might suggest this as well.

I’ve also realised that, contrary to much of the advice I’ve read about dream analysis, now I’m trying harder than usual to remember my dreams, I seem to recall fewer than ever. Or perhaps I’m just more aware now how infrequently they stick in my mind. So often, recalling a dream feels like being stranded in a vast sea, chasing after an inflatable that has escaped my grip, and every time I catch it up and grab for it, the currents sweep it further away until, finally, the waters become too deep, and I have to let it go.

1.3.22
I am at a camp site, staying in a small caravan with two other men. I am outside talking with one of them, occasionally looking over warily at the family who own the site, four or five of them sitting outside a large saloon-like building some distance away. We seem to be agents, spying on them. We agree to walk into town, but only get a couple of hundred yards up the street before I realise my tobacco is still in the caravan. I return, alone, to collect it. The caravan is unlocked, and I worry what has happened to the third member of our group. Inside, the caravan is a mess. I search through the clothes and other items, finding my tobacco and the keys to the caravan. Outside, I make sure to lock the caravan, and hope our missing friend is ok. In town, I meet up with the other agent again, and am now in an X-wing, following their A-wing through space. I am pleased that I manage to keep up with it – this usually doesn’t happen – but when we fly into a curving gap between two ice sheets, I knock one of the wings against a rock, and the A-wing flies off further ahead. I lose sight of it but, eventually, arrive at our base. Inside, it is like a very large caravan. I go to the toilet. It is just as messy as our other caravan. There is a shallow and curved cardboard box on top of the toilet. I notice a spider’s web in it. There are a couple of insect corpses in it too, and a small spider, which struggles up the web. I know there must be a larger one somewhere, and catch sight of its shadow at the other end of the box. Creeping a bit closer, I can see more of the creature itself. It is as large as a hand, and all white and furry. As I watch, it crawls out of the box, down to the floor, towards me. I step back to the door, but it keeps crawling steadily towards me, a cross between a spider and a fluffy toy truck. It climbs onto a pile of clothes at the end of the bed and settles down on top of it. I leave the room, and walk up the corridor to an old man, and ask if he can get rid of it. Back in the toilet, he sees the box, and the small spider, and kills it. I tell him that isn’t the one I meant. Below the toilet, he sees the larger one, and raises a hand above it. I tell him not to kill it, but am too late – he brings the palm of his hand down on it, hard. I feel bad for it, but not too sorry that it is dead and I no longer have to worry about it. I am now in the downstairs room of a house with the other agent again. Alex Horne comes through the door, and tells us he has worked out how much we have to pay for a particular bill every month – about £23 each. We thank him for working this out. He stands there, as if expecting something else. I tell him I will give him the money later that day, when we go into town. It occurs to me that I also still owe him money for something else.

2-3.3.22
No memories.

4.3.22
I am wandering round an immense house with lots of rooms and abstract spaces, looking for something for someone else, but I don’t know what or who. There are bedrooms, and a huge garage, and a garden, and various people I come into contact with, but none of them can help me find what I am looking for.

5.3.22
No memories.

6.3.22
I am studying an interactive map of Britain, looking for places to visit. I notice the symbol for a ferry moving down the East coast – one I had not seen before. It goes from a port in East Anglia to the very tip of Scotland. I decide to try it, and instantly arrive at a small town in what I guess must be John o’Groats, as I know that is the northern-most point of mainland Britain. The town consists of a lot of wooden buildings that look more like a shanty town in the Caribbean than Scotland. I wander the dusty, sun-soaked streets a while, before being captured by locals and put into a small jail. I escape – I don’t know how – and proceed to take vengeance on my captors. They do not realise I have super powers. I take out about twenty people before escaping the town.

7.3.22
I’m with a lot of other people in a fairly mundane house. In teams, we are watching a programme that seems to be a mix of Taskmaster and Masterchef, and making notes on it. The contestants are asked to cook a chicken as fast as they can. Mark Watson decides to cook his whole, and holds it up to camera. It looks as if he is strangling it. This makes me laugh. The rest of my team aren’t paying attention. I am determined to make them watch the recording while reading my notes before they go to sleep.

8.3.22
I am walking through a city with some friends. We go back to one of their flats, but I walk past the entrance. Realising they have gone down some stairs to a cellar flat, I turn round and follow them. They have left the narrow black door open, so I enter the flat and wander round a while, before realising that this is a house I still rent a room in, but haven’t been back to for a while. The other tenants have left the shared areas in a complete mess, so I start tidying up, plugging the many televisions in correctly and clearing up some tissues that have melded onto the floor, where someone has tried to clean up vomit. I am hungry, so go to the kitchen area, and discover loads of food that I had left in the cupboard and fridge. There is a tub of sugar, peas and carrots mixed together. I try a bit, and it’s not pleasant. I throw it out, then start cleaning the rest of the mess from the cupboard too. Other people arrive – some of them tenants, some of them people I work with. One of the tenants thanks me for cleaning. I discuss some work with a couple of colleagues. We need the help of someone who we used to work with, but none of us can remember their name. There seems to be a low-key party going on, but nobody seems very happy. I watch them through an interior window, sitting on a stool, and discussing them with a friend. I realise Tom Cruise is sitting on the other side of me, and he looks really upset as well. I put an arm round him and try to console him. He tries to console me too, but it doesn’t help much. Everything feels hopeless.

9.3.22
No memories

10.3.22
I am writing a short story in a notepad with a pencil, about a dialectic relationship between two men. It is almost finished, and I am very happy with it. I just have the closing lines to come up with. I write down a first version of these, and they work well, but aren’t perfect, so I rub them out. But now I can’t remember what I had written, and a female colleague sitting next to me (a superior, I think), keeps talking when I try to recall them. I know I will have to read through the whole story again to figure out what I should write, so leaf through the pages. I find the notes I originally made for it, but they are very different to the story I wrote. At one point they mention Atle Arnesson – one of the characters must originally have been based on him. I am now watching a Finnish comedy of manners film, the crux of which seems to be based on a confusion of the Finnish words for ‘drop’ and ‘gay’ (Real life note – I checked and they are, unsurprisingly, not at all similar), one of the characters being mistaken for being gay when he has actually said something very different. When I’ve finished watching the film, I attend a class where people are discussing it, and a Finnish ex-colleague, who is attending virtually, explains the joke. I am not sure why they need to – it seems very obvious to me.

11.2.22
I am inside a cavern-like building, sitting on a ledge. Bradley Walsh and another, much bigger built, man are sitting on a rock opposite me. We have clearly walked here together for some reason, searching for something, but have now reached a dead end. While we sit, they both start throwing pebbles at me as a joke. They aren’t very good shots, and only a few hit me. I pick one of the pebbles up and throw it back. It hits the larger man square on the arm. He acknowledges the shot, then throws another one at me, missing. I pick this one up as well, and throw it back. It lands perfectly on Bradley’s head, and stays there. They are quite impressed. We decide to leave, as there is no way forward. We stop at the end of the cavern, in front of a room like an underground car park. Through the entrance, we see many of our enemies wandering around, dressed in dirty white outfits. Bradley and the other man go through first, trying to keep to the shadows, but they are spotted and attacked. They manage to fight well, but are clearly pulling their punches, and not likely to survive, as the others are armed with melee weapons. I rush in and help my larger ally force one of the men to the ground. Taking his hatchet from him, I strike his stomach with it a couple of times. He stays down. We look around to see the others running off. I am now in a room in a different building, and decide to go for a walk. I come across what looks like a tiny shop. A podgy red creature walks out of it, about the size and shape of a coypu, with its two large ears raised. I know it is a hare though, because a friend has already told me about it, even though it looks more like a giant lops rabbit. When it sees me, it lopes back inside the shop, so I take out my phone to get a photo before it can disappear, but am too late. A woman inside the shop says something to the creature, and it walks slowly out again, standing still to let me take a photo, before loping back inside. I wave at the woman inside the shop to thank her, then walk on. (Real-life note: I was reading Eleanor Oliphant is Completely Fine before going to sleep, which mentioned a hare on a greetings card. I’ve also been watching The Chaser every day for the past few weeks...).

12.3.22
I am in a large, bleached white complex, which seems to be a combination of my workplace, a school and a hospital, in a big meeting hall with floors like a school gym, surrounded by many other people. I am walking quickly with two other people, round and round. One tells me that one of my ex-girlfriends is ill, and likely to die. I visit her. She is in bed, and does not look at all well. I make up my mind to do something about this, and check a quest list to find my objectives. Hurrying through the city, which is full of large white buildings, all compacted together, I try to find anything that will help, but am not sure where I am going or what I am looking for. There are names of places I recognise – like the library and Lion Yard in Cambridge - but none of them look like they should. I know there is supposed to be a magistrate’s court near these, and I think they would have useful records, but can’t find it. The buildings slip away, replaced by areas of large wooden platforms. I start to climb some of these, still searching, but even when I get to the very top, I can find nothing useful. Looking down, I find I have climbed much higher than I realised – the world below is tiny, and clouds obscure much of it – so I climb back down. I find myself in a small alley filled with rubbish and bins. There is a small black wasp there as well, but as I get closer I realise it is actually quite large – about the size of a buzzard. It buzzes angrily, but doesn’t attack, so I leave it alone. I am now in a shop, still looking for anything that might help my ex-girlfriend, but also to buy food for a journey. My best friend is there, trying to decide what to buy. She picks up a box of pre-made Christmas dinner. I think it sounds revolting but she seems overjoyed by it, and takes it to the counter. She opens it up and pulls out a rasher of bacon. It is grey, flat and blotchy, and does not look edible. There is another rasher that looks the same hanging on the wall, like a display item. Someone tells me my ex’s condition has worsened. I return to her, and find that the toilet next to her room is broken. I decide to try and fix it – it seems the least I can do. But it is full of brown water and faeces, and for all my fiddling I only manage to knock the toilet roll into it. When I try to take it out, the seat itself collapses into the effluence as well. I make a half-hearted attempt to pull it out, not wanting to get too covered in mess, but realise I have only made things much worse.

13-14.3.22
No memories

15.3.22
I have moved into a large house surrounded by iron railings in the middle of nowhere. It turns out there are at least five other people living there, and gradually, they all turn up. My room is large and has everything I need, but there are no lockable doors so people can come and go as they choose, though they tend to leave me to myself. I play guitar, do some cooking, play with the house cat, and try, fruitlessly, to catch the attention of one of the other tenants, who spends all her time with another man.

16-18.3.22
No memories

19.3.22
I am cycling to work along a broad red cycle path with two lanes. I catch up with an elderly man, also riding a bike. He is directly in the middle of the path, and taking up too much space. I speed up, and overtake him. He looks annoyed by this, and also speeds up, overtaking me on the wrong side. I pedal faster, determined to get past the obstacle he is creating, and overtake again. This time, with an incredible burst of speed, he zooms ahead and cuts in front of me. On my minimap, at the top right of my view, I see his trail disappear down a ramp to my right. I should be annoyed by his recklessness, but instead am just impressed by his amazing display of fitness. At work, I wander the university campus creating videos to show the lessons  lecturers will be teaching for the next semester. One in particular is following me around, determined to direct the video and ensure all the information is correct. I am pleased he is taking an interest, and try to accommodate him, though others in my crew show irritation at his interference.

20-21.3.22
No memories

22.3.22
I am in a large, cluttered workshop, leafing through documents that list cybernetic enhancements. I am looking for something in particular, but only recognise it by its name, ‘Mercury Rev’ - the same as one of my favourite bands. Weird. The document doesn’t tell me what this enhancement does, but I know it is the one I want. There are two types of it: one is liquid at room temperature, and one is solid. I look for the components to create it, but it is not easy – the only thing listed is its name. Mick Rory (Real-life note: Legends of Tomorrow character) is wandering around the workshop, but he is no help at all.

23-24.3.22
No memories

25.3.22
I am roaming an industrial landscape with a female ally. Together we are taking down a gang of raiders who have taken over the area. Having wiped out one group, we find a red suit of advanced armour. As we examine it, a person appears inside it – another powered warrior who calls herself Katja. We all return to our base, a small commune on a normal urban street. Katja wanders off on her own, while I walk through the rooms looking for my friends. They are standing in a crowded room in front of a large screen, watching a game of football being played by giants using the mouths of caves for goals. At one point the football comes out of the screen, and someone catches it. Then we are all on the pitch, taking part in the game. Afterwards I go looking for Katja with my ally. We find her sitting quietly back in the area of the fight. The raiders have respawned, but are too far away to notice us, and none of us are in the mood for another fight. Katja just sits there, saying nothing, so we leave again, and end up in a kitchen where someone is preparing a meal. I find a frying pan full of mashed potato and try a bit. It is really lumpy, so I spend a while trying to whisk it up with a fish slice. Then I remember there is something I need from the shops, so go outside. I get to the end of the street but, realising it is raining and I don’t have a coat, return to the base.

26-27.3.22
No memories

28.3.22
I am living in a small flat in a large, open-plan complex – so large that everyone else is living there as well, and so open you can see through to neighbouring flats and enter them easily. Or perhaps we are just teleporting. I take a shower, then start cooking. I am making part of a meal that everyone else is contributing to. I visit my Mum to see what she has made – it is supposed to be spaghetti bolognaise, but she has cut the meat into large chunks instead of mincing it, and laid them out neatly in a bowl for the sauce to be poured over. I walk out to another part of the complex – a supermarket, with a huge display of Easter eggs. Many people have gathered around it, taking the ones they want. The eggs are being lowered down one-by-one through a hole in the ceiling. I search the boxes for one I might want, but don’t find anything of interest. My manager is being over-enthusiastic about the work done by our younger helpers. I feel a bit jealous she has said nothing about mine, and point out that their work is good, but they still have a lot to learn.

29.3.22
No memories

30.3.22

(Real-life note – I remember this dream being far more sprawling, and feel as if I’m starting quite close to the end, but can remember nothing at all about the rest of it. This is probably the case for all these dreams, but I’ve never before felt so clearly that I’m missing so many huge chunks.)

It is night. I am in an open park with large sections covered in thick mist, and a huddle of wooden buildings at the centre. I walk towards them, careful to avoid the mist, which is now gathering together and moving around faster ahead of me. I scour the outside of the buildings for anything I can find, but everything is old and beyond use. Something is definitely moving in the mist now, which is coming closer. I walk quickly away from the park to a nearby car. There are two people in it, both women, and though I don’t recognise them I know they brought me here. I get in the car and we drive away down the road. We are now in a house-lined street. A woman steps out into the road, leading her young boy somewhere. We know them. I get out of the car and ask where they are going. She doesn’t say, but tells me we can go into their house and stay there. The others remain in the car while I enter the house through the front door, into a small kitchen. When I close the door, an electronic beeping begins. I realise the burglar alarm is about to go off, and I don’t have the code. The beeping is coming from a small plastic box on the wall, so I tap it, and the noise stops. I explore the rest of the house. It is all very normal – just a simple home, with nothing out of the ordinary. In one of the rooms I find a girl I used to know many years ago. There is immediately a connection between us, although I remember her giving me trouble. I give her a hug anyway, and we start to kiss. The other two women enter the room behind me, and we stop. I realise I need the toilet, so leave to find it. I am in a small toilet, having a pee, when the other three come in behind me. I do not feel any shame – it seems perfectly normal - until my old acquaintance starts mocking me. The other two women tell her to stop. I grab hold of her and, knowing she is addicted to social media, tell her not to post any photos she may have taken. We are now in a larger room, possibly a lounge, and there are more of us sat around, talking and making plans for where to go next.

31.3.22
No memories