I've been waiting on a detailed, meaningful dream to continue my journal with, and had so far been having little luck. Thankfully, both the meaning and superior recall were present in last night's dreaming escapades.
The following is one dream.
"What IS Love?" - December 19, 2009
It began with driving. Much.driving. I had driven home over many miles via an interstate highways (I-5, I think), and by the time I had approached Los Angeles, what with it's dirty, smog ridden air, I decided to turn around and head elsewhere. Time was forever. I had all the time in the world. I was assuming that so long as I continued back along the same road, the path would remain the same, but it happened not to be the case. Subtle changes in my surroundings sprung up, and as I peered over my left shoulder to see the city again I could see the sun peaking over the horizon, highlighting LA's brand of air in a slew of purple hues. The skies ahead of me, however, were crystal clear blues. A rare site this close to heavy civilization.
There was no destination in particular, not anymore, but as long miles rolled by I eventually came upon a pleasant site. An impressive hill covered in lush green grass and arrangements of red and pink flowers flanked the left side of the road (no longer an interstate). There were a few squat buildings that flanked the land and, according to several signs, belonged to an electric company of some sort. My car made its way slowly up the dirt path as it curved in a gentle leftward arch. I could hear the gravel under my tires. Left a bit more, and around a sharper bend the path shot up at some ridiculous 70 degree angle. Roses and bits of broken concrete bricks stuck out of this side of the hill, the path denoted (by sign again) to be a service road. My curiosity would have allowed me to continue if I didn't have an inexplicable dream-fear of driving up steep slopes. I put the car in park, shut it off and stepped out. Rolling green all around. I lay in the grass, fix my eyes on the sky, and listen to the cool nothing-whispers of the breeze.
A minute passes. A dream minute, that is, however long that may actually be, and off to my left I hear the footfalls of people. Two women were walking towards me, perhaps the owners of the property I was so kindly trespassing on. As they neared I could make out the beginning of faint lines on their faces, the result of a mix of labor and age. They asked if I wanted to join them in their home, to which I agreed. This place had a positive feel to it, I was sure, and I followed them with a light happiness in my heart the short 80 yards to the nearest building. There I recall meeting two other girls my age (I was around 26 or so in this dream), both of whom wished to show me around, and them I followed back outdoors again. One with black hair, the other with hazel. One short, the other about my hight, respectively.
I saw apple trees, peach trees, a number of small vegetable plots and, among these, a small pond. There were fish, and I awed at the small orange ones that had the shape of angelfish but laid flat on the bottom like flounders, even had both eyes on one side of their face! I don't remember getting an explanation for that. The girl with hazel hair (we'll call her Grace) remained while her sister, or friend or whomever, ran back into the house. There was light conversation. She pointed back to the fish again, this time at larger orange trout (it's what they looked like) and remarked upon how she thought it was strange that some had fins that were too short for them to actually use, and for that they had trouble swimming. Puzzling.
A friend of mine, Phillip, happened to be back in the house when we returned, and explained that a lot of the workers would be returning soon. I was under the impression, the entire time, that the women of this home were married. There were more, too, either about on the land doing something or inside tending to other things. I remember being hungry and asked them if there was anything to eat. I found a peach on the dining room table, cut it into slices and ate them as I listened to Grace explain that there was a vegetarian place nearby that they went to sometimes, but otherwise lived straight off the land. That sounded so jolly to me. I love the idea of being able to live straight off of the land that way, and thought fondly of the idea. She also appeared to be interested in me, which was puzzling considering my previous assumption. I was, after all, just a visitor to this place. Passing through.
Chit-chat passed some of the time, and a good deal of men (mayhap 6 or 7) stepped through the front door. Some sported t-shirts with heavy metal bands on the front, some had very long hair, and some were overly obese. I wasn't sure what to make of what kind of work they could possibly have been doing together, but felt it had something to do with either construction or a various manual labor job. They were tired and appeared worn, but also happy. One of the men, a very large one weight-wise, was terribly familiar. They settled into the living room to eat and watch some television, and I took this as my queue to begin my departure. The sun was settling on the other side of the sky now.
Before I left, however, I stepped into a back room for something. Probably because of some odd dream fate that I'll never be able to fully understand. These things occur that add to the plot of our stories, but we remain completely unaware of what's going on beneath the surface until it actually happens. There in the room I found Grace, standing, but with a wooden board on her front side, from her feet to the base of her neck, and with straps that looped around her. This scene was so... out of place. She looked sad, beaten even, and then ashamed upon seeing that I had stepped in to find her in such a state. I asked her why she was strapped to a God-damned board, to which she replied it was a form of punishment from her family. Clearly, I didn't understand. I pressed as to why her husband would stand for this, and, of course, she answers with, "I am alone." Story of my life, deary, say thank-ya. She told me further that she had no one, and my dream played out in cinematic fashion from then on, which is terribly clever for the mind to be doing subconsciously. "Well," I began, as I whipped out a knife and sliced the first strap, "you have me now," and finished the rest. She hugged me, and I her, and there was a connecting moment going on. This wasn't an OMG SOULMATE INFATUATION dream. This felt like legitimate love; calm, simple, and destined if such things could ever be. There was a sort of.. "oneness" thing going on. Does that make sense? Anyways, she was going to be coming with me when I left. That's how it was. Before that though, she pushed me back onto the bed and (hollywood, lol) jumped right onto me and kissed me like I've never been kissed before. Oneness, mhmm.
At least I was right about my good feeling of this place, in that the story ended rather nicely. I remember only her in the end there with me, her last act of passion to me before I faded out of that world and back into this one.
I gave some thought to the concept of love, now that I could think coherently. The night prior I was telling a friend that such things will not happen, not for myself, and not in a moaning, pissy way either, but rather matter-of-factly. I have experienced infatuation for another. That is not love. Love was that connection in the dream, one that I've experienced in dreams prior. Can that ever exist between two people in such ways? Well, it's not the first time I've asked the question. Typically it's "Is it possible to feel THIS free and ALIVE in the real world?" just after waking from one hell of a badass lucid, or, "Is there such thing as fear like this in the real world?" after nightmares that are beyond what my words are capable of expressing. To the latter two questions, I've answered "No." It's hard to recall the intensity of the fear or joy after long enough time has passed between the present and when the dream in question occurred, let alone imagine that same intensity as a possibility while awake, and without being under the influence of some drug. Is that connection possible? In an ideal world, sure, and that's the answer I'd like to hear, but I'm settling on a realistic "maybe" that leans towards "No" for the time being. I wish it did, or rather, I hope it does, but only time can tell, and sometimes time doesn't bother to tell if you don't find yourself in the right circumstances.
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