My dreams are getting stranger _ or maybe it's that I'm remembering them more. There was a time _ a period of years _ when I did not dream. The last few weeks have seen an uptick in my subconscious activity (or is it called alpha/delta wave activity?). I cannot attribute this to anything in particular. Perhaps it's the changing of the seasons.
I woke up at 5:30 a.m. and went back to sleep for an hour. It was then that I had a dream...
I was back in high school, though I later learned it was graduate school. I was in a classroom filled with the classic high school desks with the built-on plastic slab desktops. The teacher was White Sox manager Ozzie Guillen. He had us study some pictures of the Art Institute that he drew himself and determine what his psychological problem was from a list of five options (man, I wish I could remember these). Ozzie kept driving out students, who got up and left throughout the class. At one point, one of my real-life co-workers came in with a large dog _ like a Great Dane. The dog had no ears and eyes like a mole _ barely visible. I thought maybe it had been deformed by a firework explosion, but my coworker told the class it was just a rare breed.
What does it all mean? I don't think it means anything _ just an entertaining nocturnal vision _ an assemblage of experiences, longings and ruminations _ a few frames from the human cinema _ a patchwork quilt of our (cont. tomorrow)
No comments:
Post a Comment