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Electric Dreams Volume 01 Issue 03
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| Electric Dreams |
| Volume 1 Issue 3 |
| 15 May 1994 |
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| Please send suggestions, contributions, mailing list and back |
| issue requests to cbeattie@uwspmail.uwsp.edu |
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Dedicated to sharing and exploring dreams.
____________________________________________________________________________
Notes from the editors
As you can see, the popular vote for this newsletter's name was "electric
dreams". This title got over half the popular vote, with the rest of the
votes being fairly evenly spread among the other names.
Just a few quick notes this issue.
1. Problems uploading the newsletter.
I have gotten word from a few people that they have been having
problems downloading the newsletter. I need to know if this is a
common problem, or if it is fairly isolated. If it is common, I may
break the newsletter into smaller pieces on a regular basis. If it
is rare, I will split the mailing list into two groups, the
alternate group getting the newsletter in smaller installments, and
the main group getting (if I can get the server to work right) one
large issue. It'll still be the same issue for everyone, don't
worry.
2. Whoops!
Seems I forgot to name some of the untitled dreams last week. I'll
see that doesn't happen again. Remember, if you don't title the
dreams you submit, someone else will. What you title your dream
(try going with your first impulse) could provide valuable clues to
your dreams meaning.
3. Commentary vs. Interpretation
On the advice of Pamela Ryan, I have changed the name of the dream
interpretation section of the newsletter to the dream commentary
section. The reasoning is that someone can provide a valid
interpretation only if they know the individual personally.
Interpretation implies a flat out "this is what your dream means"
attitude, which should only be taken if the interpreter is familiar
with the dreamer's own way of perceiving and interpreting reality.
Commentary is more of a friendly opinion: "In my view, your dream
could mean something like..." This term also better represents our
idea of a recreational use for the section. Don't offend and don't
be offended.
4. Submission guidelines
==submitted by kmccall@netcom.com======================================
Making your dream as easy to read as possible will increase the
number people who read, and thus, interpret your dream. Although
many dreams may sometimes be a series of non-sequitors, taking a few
minutes to turn starry-eyed notes into something more intelligible
prior to posting is well worth the effort. The moderator cannot
perform the task of an editor, both for the time involved, as well
as for fear of changing the meaning of a dream. The following are a
few guidelines that will ensure your dream gets posted:
1) Use upper and lower case letters where appropriate.
2) Be generous with paragraphs. Even If it's difficult to find a
spot to break a paragraph, find one. Almost everyone likes a
mental break at least once in an entire screen of text.
3) Paragraph breaks with both a space and an indent, seem
particularly pleasing in this medium.
4) Try to use a spell checker, or at least try proofing your work
as best as you can.
-- kmccall@netcom.com
[Also, if you have the time, our format is 80 characters per line.
We don't edit dreams, but we reserve the right to edit articles for
space and clarity. For more information, holler at BJ
(hi205436@spstmail.uwsp.edu). It's his idea.]
____________________________________________________________________________
Dream Commentary
======Comments: Falling Horse-Issue One=====================================
I saw the horse as an image of perfection shattered and related it
not so much to a standard for self but perhaps a standard for the parent
relationship. (Related to the comment about Mother leaving.) The image is
so powerful and suggests so many things that one is reluctant to limit it.
Among the possibilities I see:
fall from grace/ original sin: whose? Mother's?
fall from innocence into knowledge of reality
idealism, rather than perfectionism, shattered
inspiration abruptly destroyed, seemingly forever
but only seemingly
--mdbrown@artsci.wustl.edu (Marilyn)
======Comments: The Waitress and her Bodily Fluids==========================
Okay, I'll tell you up front -- I'm quite the feminist. And so this
dream brings up a lot of issues for me: women as servants, trying to make
people understand the feminine condition (drinking in menstrual fluids),
feeling "murdered" and "stuck in the middle" (median). Are you male? Are
you perhaps a bit sad about the "death" of the old-fashioned woman-in-pink
who used to wait on people, for less-than-adequate wages?..... (Sorry. Don't
mean to berate you.)
Or perhaps there really is a murdered waitress somewhere who is
trying to tell her story through your dream......
--pryan@prairienet.org
======Comments: Basement/Raw
meat===========================================
If this were my dream, it might be helping me confront some old,
buried issues -- perhaps from my high school days. The basement might
represent my unconsciousness, and the boyfriend's comment about high school
while examining the sump pump make me think that something from that time in
life needs to be dredged up and pumped away. The woman with the blotted-out
face makes me think that some things may still be obscured.
All the raw meat and dead animals in the latter part of the dream
make me wonder whether the "deeply buried" issue might have something to do
with death, or sex.... (Animals in my dreams may represent sex, or other
"animalistic"/basic feelings.)
--pryan@prairienet.org
======Comments: Baby Kidnap
Dream===========================================
Just a few random thoughts about this dream: the earthy marketplace
includes a "pregnant" symbol (the doll within a doll), but for some reason,
this image is associated with devouring aggression (Tasmanian devil).
Some kind of ordered pattern (the checkerboard of tiles) is falling
to pieces, although I'd like to own it.
I have no baby -- how will society judge me for this? Well, if this
were MY dream, it might be about my feelings surrounding being childless.
(Which is a current issue in my life.) I'm "breaking the established pattern"
by having no child, and I don't know how others will treat me for this....
--pryan@prairienet.org
I find this one complex fascinating but am not ready to take on the
whole of it. Instead, I'd like to draw a parallel between it and Antique
Shop (same issue) and an antique shop dream I had a year ago. I am wondering
if this image of entering a bazaar-type space is a commonly occurring one and
if it represents going into our own minds to look for a gift or to select an
item of interest for further pondering.
The description of the setting of the Antique Shop dream matches my
own almost exactly. The predominantly brown and beige colors of the Baby
dream also correspond to my dream setting. <Please see the description of
Marilyn's dream in the dream section of the newsletter.>
--mdbrown@artsci.wustl.edu (Marilyn)
_________________________________________________________________________
Dreams
======Dreams by ake@lighthouse.com========================================
"Ronald"
I traveled to India, climbed mountains in search of a guru, and I
eventually finally found one.
"What is the meaning of life?"
"Silly man. Why did you come out here when it was all around you?
The meaning is in everything, not just the flowers and the clouds, but the
way is everywhere. Take the example of the Big Mac. Its multi-layers
represents the layers of consciousness, the depths of one mind, the illusion
of reality is like standing on the top sesame seed bun.
Consider the contrasts in color from white bread to black meat to
white to black to white. It is a never ending cycle. Life and death, the
inevitably of death, the role of death in providing nutrients to the living.
The cycle of life.
The world has secrets, like the sauce, yet the diligent find the
meaning.
The way is everywhere, on a billlboard, on your radios, on your
broadcast television. The ignorance of the way validates its existence. The
understanding of the unknowable brings enlightment.
(Author's note: I have been a vegetarian for years.)
"Land Cruiser"
I was traveling in the back of a MPV with a woman I thought I loved,
as her father drove on. Her mother was seated on the left, I on the right,
and she was in the middle. At first, she curled up by her mother, but then
scooted over to hug me in her warmth. She said, "I can't move in with you
because you want to live on a boat."
"I don't care about the water as much as I care about you. I would
give up my love for the sea for your warmth."
"I couldn't ask you to abandon your first love."
(Author's note: I never wanted to live on a boat.)
======Dream by gaustin@falcon.cc.ukans.edu==========================
"Death, Rebirth"
(This dream occurred about 5 years ago during emotional difficulties after a
bad break up from a long term relationship)
The dreams begins with me watching myself choke to death. At the
moment of death, or at least loss of conciousness, the dream suddenly shifted
and I was back in my normal life, doing normal things. Of course, the
setting was mostly fabricated. I was in the second semester of my Freshman
year at the University of Kansas, only instead of taking place in Lawrence,
KU resided in Australia. Most of the buildings were the same and somehow my
parents lived in town and I was living at home with them. The bizarre part
of it was that our house was a converted, pale cave with smooth, meandering
walls with all the other regular comforts of home.
As the day went on and I was attending my regular classes and it all
came together. I figured out that somehow I had actually died that day from
choking and was reborn into the same life (except things were quite different
this time around...coincidentally, my parents nearly moved to Australia when
I was 2). When I had figured this all out I returned home in between classes
and confronted my mother about all this.
When I told her what I thought had happened and asked her if I was
going to die agian (for the fateful day where I would reach the exact same
age as I was when I died the first time, was near) and she lowered her head
in a very sad, knowing manner and said nothing. Then, I suddenly realized
(not exactly knowing how I knew this) that today was that day and at some
point my death was supposedly ineviatble. At first I began to panic, then I
reassured myself that as long as I was extremely careful, I could survive
the day and the curse (or whatever you want to call it) would be broken. I
went back to campus and my next class, English 102. That day we watched the
movie "Little Big Man" with Dustin Hoffman (a true life event).
My classmates were handing out popcorn and without even thinking I
had a couple of handfulls. Suddenly I stopped and thought to myself "my
God, what if I choke on a kernel". The rest of the class went by quickly
without any other concerns. I was on my way to my next class and was about
to get on the elevator and thought "what if the elveator cable breaks" and
decided to take the stairs and that's when the alarm went off. The crazy
thing about this dream is that it was so intense and so real to me that it
took a good 2-3 minutes for me to realize that I could stop worrying about
dying.
Greg
======Dream by
mdbrown@artsci.wustl.edu=====================================
"My Own Little Shop Dream"
My own Little Shop dream turned out to be precognitive, adding to my
sense of it representing the selection of a gift. I went down a dusty
deserted road, noticing that the street sign (dented and rusty) said
Wickland. Even in the dream I related this name to Wicca and, though not a
Wiccan, assumed I was heading into magical territory. The shop was a mess,
and the owner came out briefly to wash his hands in a non-functioning sink.
More magic. I knew I was there to find a gift for a friend of mine named
Barbara, and her name seemed more important than anything else. I found
nothing but suddenly noticed across a field a craft fair set up. I wandered
over and went to one booth where two women were standing. One of them said,
"I am your cousin, Barbara, and this is my friend Barbara."
I do have a cousin named Barbara, but I hadn't seen her in more than
30 years and would not recognize her.
The dream just faded out.
The following weekend, I had my work set up at a weekend art show.
Many people came through, including at one point a couple of women I did not
know; however, a little inner voice said, "Go ask their names." I wondered
how to do that without looking a little odd, but I tend to act on my
intuition. I approached them and apologized for bothering them but wondered
if I might know one of them. The woman stared at me for a minute, looked
startled, and said, "Yes, I think so. Are you Marilyn? I'm your cousin,
Barbara. Let me introduce you to my friend here-- she's another Barbara."
This dream came when I had been feeling a sense of loss of contact within,
and so I think my connection got restored.
Marilyn
======Dream by
robojay@aol.com==============================================
"Blue Jay vs. Robocop"
I was a gigantic blue jay, about the size of a pteranodon, and I was
standing in front of RoboCop. Suddenly I pecked out his heart, and he was
lying on his back while I stood on his chest. His heart dripped blood and
oil, and he bled to death while I stood there. I saw blood trickling from his
mouth. I didn't want to kill him, but I knew I had to in order to redeem him.
I was reassured because somehow I knew that he would get a new and better
heart, designed by someone who had graduated from Georgia Tech (where I am a
student of mechanical engineering). Then he would come back to life, and be
his own man.
======Dream by
rjr3@ukc.ac.uk===============================================
"Baby Dreams"
I sent in the dream in the last issue about being caught in a market
place and sentenced hard labour if I didnt steal a baby etc. These are most
of my other baby-related dreams. (Im female,20 yrs old and have no children..
the dreams were from a few months to a year back)
In no particular order..
1. One took place in a massive department store which sold practically
anything you can imagine people selling. I was with my family (father,
mother, brother and grandparents made an appearance) and we were shopping
with a huge trolley. My mother nipped off somewhere and my dad said shed
gone to have a baby. A little while later she came walking down some stairs
holding a baby and my brother pointed out that her tights were laddered.
I reprimanded him saying "well she's just had a baby hasn't she" and we
were just about ready to go and started loading up the car. There wasn't
much room and they said "Oh the baby can go in the boot.." so they started
to stuff/throw it into the back of the car and I can remember almost
screaming at them to the effect that the baby would suffocate or break or
something.
2. Nother one was again about a baby of my mothers..toddler..little sister.
and It was like I was seeing myself again as a toddler. .I can remember
looking out onto a patio at my dad and this child in scenes like my earliest
memories and photos, and my parents said that because she looked so much
like me I had to look after her but I hadn't a clue how to.
3. I can't remember the rest of this dream and sorry this is a bit sick
but I was on a motorbike chasing these other bikers and there was an accident.
I braked, got off the bike and went to do first aid on the others. one
woman had come off her bike and was screaming that she must have lost her
baby and, hideously, about a couple yards away was this obviously
premature foetus covered in..oh anyhow It was scary and disgusting.
4. This one was part of a long, quite complicated dream where I was
kidnapped by a seven or eight ft giant of a munster man (who bore a
resemblance to a man whod asked me out several times..very persistent..only
that he had the same kind of face and was tall) and had to erm..sexually
satisfy him only he was distinctly pregnant..five or six months I'd say
kind of difficult to explain away..
(I have no sister..just a brother who is about 11 months younger than me..
I've never ridden a motorbike and I've certainly never seen a 8ft pregnant
male)
Know a good Shrink ?????
Beck
======Dream by: hi205436@spstmail.uwsp.edu===============================
[This one's a long one.]
Dream: 18 March 1992
My family decided to go vacationing on the Rib River for an afternoon. We brought a
picnic lunch and our swimming suits. I don't think we actually ate, but we were all swimming and
I was closest to shore. [My youngest brother] Lyle was having some difficulty, but I noticed a
plastic air raft surfacing from some unknown area under the water. I grabbed it and gave it to
Lyle.
Soon we all had these raft things and were floating down stream, away from our picnic
site. We didn't seem to be getting wet. As we passed the edge of the land (to our left), I turned
to my dad and remarked on something. I don't know when, but it might have been then that
another person joined our party.
This man was genial enough, with dark blonde hair and more knowledge about what was
happening than we had. He stood on his raft, and though his feet were in the water, they didn't
get wet. Sometimes I was me and sometimes I was this new guy, which was how I figured out
that we were all dead. Now we were all standing on our rafts, which kept moving along the
water.
I, as this new guy, coasted along side of either me, Dad or someone else, and latched on to
some sort of...I don't know what it was. It was yellowish, about a foot long and two or three
inches thick, around fourteen or fifteen inches tall, metal and antique. It had a large panel, I think,
in the upper left hand "corner" (the edges were rounded) and a half of a tin can embedded in the
lower right.
I traced along the can with my own (I'm still the new guy), which I remember was a
tomato paste can. When the person coasting next to me (I think it was my dad) asked, "How did
you do that?" I looked down to find my can in the contraption next to the original one. I
mumbled something about what I was doing there and handed the contraption back.
I was me again, and we coasted toward a small cove surrounded by trees. We entered and
I noticed that this place used to be someone's room. There was about a three to four foot path of
water on either side of a tiny island, which was squarish and had a large box of some kind on the
end closest to us. The box was nearly overgrown with vines and bushes, and more bushes
collected behind it. As we stood floating at the entrance, I saw a door at the far right corner. We
all made for the box.
[My middle brother] Keith, Lyle and I looked in, and I noticed that it was an old, wooden
school desk. There was no top, but all the contents were inside and undisturbed. We dug
through and I saw old pens and pencils, some paper, rulers and such. They were all antique. The
new guy told us to leave it alone and follow him through another door that had been on the left
side, across from the desk. We were now standing on the vines.
We dug through one last time, and I noticed a small box that was about seven inches long.
Opening it, I discovered a small ruler and another ruler that seemed to have a mercury
thermometer in the middle. The end of the thermometer jutted out of the base of the ruler. There
was also a calendar--a small one, with the months on tiny, two inch square sheets. The year read
either 192- or 182-. My guess is about 1922. Lyle had been last to enter the door, and I hurriedly
followed, pocketing the rulers and calendar.
Past the door were a series of long, white rooms that looked as though they had been
taken from a shoebox hospital. I ran to keep up with Lyle's departing figure, but every time I
entered a room, I glimpsed him rounding the corner. It was barely enough for me to tell the right
door to take.
Each room was only about six or seven feet wide and fifteen feet long, stuffed with tables
and medical equipment so that there was a narrow walkway from the entering door to the two
leaving doors. Everything was so white. The far end of each room let into a wide area where
nurses and other hospital people bustled around, but Lyle always disappeared into the doorway on
the right wall, just before the open area. This hospital was busy.
After about eight doors and the corrosponding rooms, I ran through a room toward what I
took to be Lyle's black tee-shirt. When I got there, this small man bumped past me. He had hair
like Lyle's and a black tee-shirt, but he wore a small stocking cap with a pom-pon and he sported
a scraggly, long beard that splayed out in a semicircle around the lower half of his face. He didn't
notice me. By the time I got to the doorway, I had no idea where my family was.
Walking through a few more rooms, I got to a labyrinthine part of the hospital that had
darkened sections and no people. There were still some of the long, rectangular rooms, but there
were also a few larger rooms to my left. It was hopeless. I turned back, happening upon some of
the larger open areas. Now it looked less like a hospital and more like a huge, dark train station.
The open areas were all kind of seperated by pillars and the occasional half-wall, like a basement
from some sort of industrial warehouse: less light, not as many walls, larger areas, a ceiling twice
as high as it shoud be and many gigantic black pillars.
Large groups of people had been sectioned off and they seemed to be preoccupied. They
all sat there, in chairs that had been set up, either just sitting like they were in an airport or
watching television. I walked through this place, looking for anybody I recognised. There were
some lights, but most of the place was in shadow. I kept fiddling with my glasses until they fit
right, and when they finally did, I took them off to see what I had done. The nose pads had bent
way over to the right.
I turned around a pillar toward the back of a group of people that were sitting in these
folding chair things and watching television. They were all clad in leather jackets with chains and
studs. Some of them had interesting haircuts and tattoos. They seemed to have been sectioned
off, like all the other groups, and only a few--those toward the front--showed any emotion. For
the most part, they just sat there, staring at the screen. The television was playing a music video
full of dark, foggy streets. There was a black car driving here and there and a few things
exploding. Some slum areas. The music was Nine Inch Nails's "Head Like a Hole".
The reason I entered this place--and nobody seemed to notice me when I did--was because
I thought one of the women sitting in the back row was Margaret Anderson [a girl from one of
my classes]. I had stopped to look at the television, and when I turned back, it wasn't Margaret.
There was no way I could tell if she had been before.
Walking out of that place, I trudged to the area behind it, where more people sat, facing
the same direction. I didn't notice a television or anything else to keep them occupied. They just
sat there. In the last row, there was a face I recognised. It was Julie [a short, blonde friend of
mine].
I called her name, striding over to her and pulling a chair around. She was sitting, facing
the other way than all the rest and fiddling with something--either some knitting, a keychain or a
plastic purse. I sat in front of her. "Julie, what are you doing here?"
She looked up at me, but her eyes were dull and her hair was matted down and kind of
straggly. She was completely wasted, like she had been forced to run constantly for decades
through a neverending swamp while carrying the world. I was pretty shocked, because she didn't
smile; she didn't even reply. There was no "Julie" about her anymore. She just looked at me.
The only clue I had that she recognised me at all was that she didn't ask who I was. It was as
though someone had crushed her soul.
"Julie," I said, trying to get her to respond, "I'm dead. I drowned. I think we all
are--everyone here."
I didn't mention my family, but Julie's eyes widened. Usually it looks great when her eyes
are big, but this was subtly horrifying. They were a fraction too wide and remained dead and
broken. She said about my family, "They're on level D."
Two men approached behind her. The one that spoke was kind of short, with a dark
complexion and short, curly black hair. They stood a couple rows behind Julie, and the one man
leaned over and said, "There's been a mistake." His voice and face were emotionless, but his eyes
were as wide as Julie's--no less frightening. "You two have to go back."
Julie turned to look behind her at the man, showing the first human response since I saw
her. His comment seemed to snap her out of her shock a little.
"What about my family?" I said.
His face didn't change. "They're already there."
I took Julie's hand and we stood up.
The dialogue in quotations is exactly quoted from the dream and any conversation I was
unsure of was explained in the narrative.
-- BJH September 1992
======Dreams by
ka109016@spstmail.uwsp.edu==================================
VMK
DREAM JOURNAL ENTRY #101
Vol.5, May 9, 1994
"Neil Gaiman, I DRIVE A CAR & marriage--ACK!"
I had a vision of comic books, as if someone was holding several in
front of me and daring me to try to read them as they flipped the pages. I
couldn't tell what the comics were of, but I was able to stop the pages from
turning. As soon as I did that, I found myself at a comic convention. I was
the only woman artist there and my nerves were on edge.
Someone led me to a computer screen and I recieved E-mail from Neil
Gaiman, the writer of SANDMAN. He addressed me as the "Dream Shaman" and he
wanted to interview me at the convention. He told me to meet him in the
men's restroom. There was a men's restroom to my left.
I went inside, but inside it was not a restroom, it was an office and
studio space--all painted in blue. Neil was at his desk typing something on
one of those old 1930s typewriters. I started to ask him questions like;
"What would you like to talk about first?", "I have my portfolio with me,
would you like to review it?", and "Why have you called me here?"
He didn't answer any of these, he just said, "When will you be able
to work on one of MY stories?" I told him I didn't know I was being hired.
Then he started to ask me stupid questions like; "How often do you dye your
hair?", "Have you ever considered going blond?", "When is your next
appointment at the salon?", and "Shouldn't you be married by now?"
I didn't care for these questions. He told me I should be prepared
for them. "No one takes women seriously in comics," He said, "it's about
time you started toughening yourself up. I need you for my next story..." I
was frightened, so I excused myself. I don't like being noticed when I'm
irrational.
Next I was in the parking lot. Some guy walking by told me that
there was a car waiting for me in the back. He said the car was made out of
Red Jasper (a type of stone) and that I'm lucky to have it. The funny thing
is, I don't know how to drive in real life (but I can drive in this dream).
I get into the car and it starts raining. Suddenly I'm in Madison,
WI driving this Red Jasper car through light snow. There is no steering
wheel on the car, only a telephone rotary dial which I use to steer the car.
In the back are two old ladies who are talking about me.
"My, she is so nice," they say, "I wish I had a daughter like her...
driving people places they need go. And she pretty, too...but will she stay
pretty? Or is she gonna git too much like the boys and their silly picture
books?"
I drive the two old women to a graveyard. I stop the car and they
disappear when I get out. I walk into the graveyard. Instead of burial
plots, there are deep, black puddles which I step into. I'm dressed in a
black chiffon mourning dress, complete with hat, umbrella (eventhough it's
not raining), black roses, and viel.
As I step through the puddles, there are three children playing
around me. These kids are dressed all in white, one's a blond little girl,
the other two are dark-haired boys. One of the boys tuggs me by the hand. I
let him lead me to the edge of the graveyard where there is a big picture of
Princess Di as the Virgin Mary and two white silk bridal gloves.
"These can be yours, you know," the little boy tells me. I don't
want these things, but I take one of the gloves (I don't put it on) and I
walk away.
Next thing I know, I'm brought before a mausoleum. The little boy
opens it and inside there is a wedding reception going on. I step inside. I
am now dressed as a bride out of 18th century France and there's this HUGE
table full of food before me. Thousands of people are there. I'm put on the
spot. I think I'm the guest of honor. The little boy is supposed to be my
future husband. I get angry at everyone there.
"I don't want to marry anyone," I plead, "I'm too young and it will
take my identity away. I'm sorry, but you will all have to go home..." And
the little boy starts crying.
"Don't you love me?" he sobs, "I thought you wanted me! What can I
do to have you?" I tell him he's too young for me. He tries to convince me
otherwise. I'm starting to feel guilty, I don't want to hurt him, but I must
hold my ground. Being single makes me happy. Then I wake up.
VMK DREAM JOURNAL ENTRY #102 Vol.5, May 11, 1994
"Popular hands"
I was staring at BJ's hands. Everyone I know wants to touch them and
have them (even me) but I'm not sure it's right. He's letting everyone, even
strangers, touch and hold his hands. People from all walks of life are
petting his fingers. He likes the attention and brags about it. I get fed up.
I'm telling him, "Stop letting people do this to you! You might lose
yourself! ...You NEED your hands!" For hours it seems like I'm always
trying to grasp his hands, but then after I do touch him, I feel ashamed and
hold back. No one else seems self-conscious about touching BJ's hands and he
isn't bothered by anyone touching him. He asks me why I don't want his hands
as bad as others do.
I tell him it's because I want him to do what's right for him. I
don't want to control him. "If you want, these hands can be your hands," he
says, "let me give them to you." I refuse to have them. In the end, he
takes my hands. I feel like this is some sort of test. I don't trust him
with my hands. Even though he's sincere, I have to get away. Then I wake up.
____________________________________________________________________________
Dream articles and information.
======From
hi205436@spstmail.uwsp.edu=======================================
How can music affect your dreams?
--BJH
When I go to sleep, I need to have music on to counter the effects of
tinnitis (a constant ringing in the ears caused by damaged cochlea).
I've found that different music has different effects on my dreams. Here
are a few types of music and suggestions for experiments.
Getting to sleep with music on can be a chore, unless you're used to
it. Some types of music are better suited for this lullabye task, and
all I can do is suggest what works for me--your brain will probably have
different ideas. Strangely enough, industrial music works best for me.
Industrial is music that has a heavy beat, lots of bass and electronics
and whispered or rasped vocals. My favourite groups for falling to sleep
are Front 242, Trauma, Ministry (only the album "Twitch"), and Frontline
Assembly. "Twitch" is the best album I've found--the vocals are almost
all whispered and all the stereo effects travel back and forth between
your ears. Very hypnotic.
Some of the relaxing music I like (Enya, Dead Can Dance; the ethereal
stuff) doesn't work. I haven't figured out why.
Here's what they do to my dreams. Trauma gives me really dark,
surreal dreams. There is a lot of urban landscaping and metal. There
really isn't a feeling of oppression, but my surroundings aren't really a
place I'd like to be in real life. Front 242 blacks me right out--I
usually can't remember my dreams. Ministry's "Twitch" lulls me to
sleep. Sometimes I remember pasty, off-the-wall dreams involving family
members and close friends in close-to-real-life experiences. The neat
side-effect of "Twitch" is the fact that I always wake up as out of a
deep sleep, feeling really rested.
Another group (then I'll stop) I experimented with was 'Til Tuesday.
They're basically folkish rock. Usually I'd put them on during a nap and
have the cd repeat until I woke up. When I listened to them this way,
and I'm sure it'll work with almost any music you can sleep to, I got
quite a lot of lucid dreams.
Try this: practise going to sleep with the same music playing over
and over (better use an entire album so you don't go crazy) for a few
months. Eventually, the music will bleed into your dreams. Depending on
your mindset, you can use this musical cue to say, "Hey, I'm in the
middle of the desert, but I hear 'Til Tuesday. I listen to 'Til Tuesday
every time I take a nap, so I must be taking a nap right now!"
It takes a while, but it works.
If anybody's still interested in music vs. sleep, let me or Chris
know and I'll try to prepare an article ahead of time instead of dashing
it off the night before we send the N-letter out.
--BJH--
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Things for next time.
Val has a series of dreams she had in March that ran about a week.
Printing them would take an awful amount of space. Would you be
interested in reading a serial dream? If yes, should we serialise it in
about six issues (a month and a half) or should we print a special
newsletter (a one-timer) for the serial dream? Do any of you have serial
dreams that you'd like to share?
Just for your information, Val typed up the first dream in the
series, and it was about six pages long.
