Pointed Ears, Pointed Dream
Dreamed 2019/1/4 by Wayan
for the real Danielle and Cary
Walking south on Valencia Street toward home, in a slow steady drizzle. I wear a thin hooded robe, so I look like Death in a medieval woodcut. Or an elf from Tolkien. But as it slowly gets soggy, I sag into a gaunt shivering mortal.
Though maybe we ARE elves, or werehorses: I, and most of those I see, have long mobile pointed equine ears.
And the robe-hoods are adapted for creatures like us. All have earholes. Better cold wet ears than squashed, restricted ones--clothes designers all know we find THAT unbearable.
I head into a thrift shop and seek a similar hooded robe. Find one, buy it, put it over the other, and the extra layer rewarms me--for a while. But as I slog down Valencia in the rain, it too eventually soaks.
Into a second shop, buy a third robe--cheap, thin. Spot a warmer one, but it's wool and I'm allergic. Make do with the thin one. Walk on, warm a while, but after a mile I'm shivering. Go into a Salvation Army store...
Here I run into my friend Danielle. It's been like five years. She's as cute as ever. Says "I came here for a robe too, but also... I sensed a friend in emotional crisis." And there she is. A tall slender brunette with an intelligent but sad aura. Wait, I know her too... isn't she my old crush Cary? Young and beautiful, hasn't aged in all these years. Funny, now that I think of it, I haven't either. Guess we really are elves or magic ponies or... something. With big pointed ears.
Danielle and I try to comfort Cary. Hold her. She cries. I feel both turned on--they're both so sexy--and affectionate--I always liked them both, though we were very different. Oh, and a simpler attraction: pooling our warmth, easing my shivers.
I think I have unresolved business with Cary (if it's her)--we broke up over a misunderstanding my family caused. Toward Danielle I feel sheer admiration for the strength of her compassion-radar. I'm intuitive, but I didn't sense Cary through the store walls! Impressive.
But looking at myself, I see just vulnerability, not strength--thin, shivering, needing one more insulating layer to get me home. Just not much to give when you're drained! "The spirit is willing but the flesh is cold."
NOTES IN THE MORNING
This dream's skeleton--a cycle of hot & cold--clearly incorporated real waves of fever & chills. No surprise here--the ancients knew this happens. But reductionists (whether of the "dreams are all from subliminal prompts" school, or the even more extreme (but still quite common) "it's all just memory processing or meaningless brain-static" school) fail to explain the other dream-elements my mind chose to flesh out that skeletal plot--unique images implying deep messages like "you're not human--you're some strange magical being", "your self-help works but is short-term; up your quality or frequency of self-care" and, I think, "you're lonely and want a girlfriend, but not a normal human, you need a..." whatever species I am here! Elf. Kitsune. Were-unicorn.
Assuming every aspect of a dream is symbolic and psychological is just silly; my hotflashes and chills were physical. But "your brain was just working on memory storage" is equally silly! Don't let reductionists restrict you--to any theory, whether biochemistry, subliminal stimuli, psychological issues, Jungian universalities, practical problemsolving, brain farts or magic.
Dreaming's multileveled--your dreamwork needs to be.
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