Sleep Dealer

red bridge, the|G|TM, 2009

Hard to believe it's two years since Inception was released. I know what you're thinking - was Cobb still dreaming? Well at this point I'm not sure it's that important or even worth debating, despite my previous intention to write an analysis that really got into the story. In the same way 2001: A Space Odyssey has been interpreted as a metaphor for film-making, Inception was early on described as Christopher Nolan's film about the art of film. The cut to black can be read either way and argued about for all time to the pleasure of Warner's DVD division, either way it marks the end of the film and the end of the film as our shared dream. In Nolan's words (my emphasis):

I put that cut there at the end, imposing an ambiguity from outside the film. That always felt the right ending to me - it always felt like the appropriate "kick" to me.

Regardless of which is the true narrative of Inception, it brought lucid dreaming into the popular consciousness which can still be seen two years on. And two years on I'm marginally closer to lucid dreaming.

You Could Feel The Sky

Twentieth Century Fox (suck it, Murdoch)

The past few weeks I've been starting work whilst it's still dark and stood at my window waiting for my lift. The first day I was staring out toward the hills in the distance and a light appeared on the limb and grew brighter and brighter moving right until quickly fading. Whilst I wandered what I had seen, the same phenomenon repeated itself and then I realised I was watching the headlights of cars on the road along the hillside. Similarly, the first time I saw an Iridium satellite in the sky I wanted to believe it was something supernatural, but by actually being educated in my observation I knew it was only a communications dish catching the sun over the horizon. As someone who would like to see evidence of extraterrestrial life or of the paranormal, is it not odd that I've never seen an aerial phenomenon that I was unable to identify? I've got Mulder's I Want To Believe poster on my wall for more than just X-Files fandom. Most UFO reports really are of Venus refracted through swamp gas, because most people can't identify the brightest planet in the sky.

Over The Horizon Radar

I FAIL (Cropped), Prij, 2006

One of the reasons I've always advocated media studies, despite not having taken it myself, is to promote critical thinking - especially with regards to advertising and journalism. It's important to doubt what you're presented with, be it a brand of aftershave or a superbeing in the sky. Without free thought we become consumers, like farm animals fattening up to be led round the back and given a second mortgage. As a free thinker I hate to see lies and deceptions being mindlessly accepted by people. More so when it's me. In my pursuit of lucid dreaming there's nothing more annoying than not dreaming, than later remembering you did. Across three nights at the start of this month I missed three opportunities to become lucid.

In the first dream I had a false awakening and was presented with something I knew was not true and I successfully recognised that. However, I reasoned that I was being tricked into believing I was dreaming (a reverse Inception?) and proceeded to perform the finger-through-hand reality check in order to prove I was awake. It correctly proved (in narrative) that I was awake. To practise that reality check and see it fail was extremely frustrating. The following night I dreamt I was on what alternated between being a train and a plane. With obviously fictional characters present amongst the passengers, I had a conversation about lucid dreaming with the two women in the row behind. I even talked about reality checks but didn't perform one, perhaps because of the previous night's failure.

(Dream A Dream A Trance As You Dream) In Trance As Mission

The Listening Room, René Magritte, 1952

More than a decade ago in a hot and stifling home economics class each pixel in my eye went out one by one until my vision faded, my inner ear lost track of balance, and the last thing I could feel was my head painlessly colliding with the floor tiles. I woke up in bed, got up for breakfast and went about the morning routine for school. Then I woke up again in the recovery position on the classroom floor. As I woke I said to the teacher 'I was dreaming' - What I meant was, I thought collapsing was the dream, and the dream was reality. She figured I had dreamt Scotland won the World Cup. I always found dreams interesting like my own personal bizarre little narrative-defying films, which is why I used to keep a dream journal off and on between 2004 and 2008. A few years ago I read about lucid dreaming but largely forgot about it until seeing Inception. Since the start of this month I've been trying, though to no avail as of writing.

Alone in the Town

(Untitled), Prij, 25/12/05

It's happened again. Whenever I've got time off work I quickly slip into nocturnal mode. A while back I slept through three consecutive days of daylight, which is probably why I can't remember how long ago it was. It must have been during Winter, my curtains were never opened.

There's nothing like the solitude of the night. An extended run of quiet hours, you and the words, the music, or the film uninterrupted - a closeness that cannot be achieved in the light and air of the day, but after a while you must come up to breathe. The intimacy of the night can also smother you. The only colour in the dark is the infernal monochrome of the street lamp, like dead stars too weak to shine. It's often during these nights I sit and think, sometimes deliberate.

There is nothing to avoid in the night but sleep, for in my dreams I have fought backwards and see the old faces but speak new words. Accept the past or spend every sleeping moment trying to change it. It was once her face, then another's, and yet more from memory. Did I even know any of them? All I really want is someone else to catch this drift. Otherwise, I might have to consider I'm the only extant.

[224]

Thirty Frames A Second

JB Mason, Self Portrait, c1912

It's been a while since more than two posts were published in a single month, with the exception of the holidays. You may notice the preceding post has origins back in 22/06/05, before this blog actually started. I'm suddenly eager to clear out the drafts sitting in the management screen. The continuing problem being that I can't seem to eke out something publishable. The dullards on the street don't have to worry about editing their thought(s) and putting them onto paper, so to speak. In light of this, I've attached two abortive posts.

The two dreams which I've previously described - Astronomic and Old Bedroom - seem to have been phased out upon mention. Most recently I've repeatedly dreamt of losing a tooth, disturbing me to the point that I had trouble sleeping. A new adaptable classic, Tsunami, has filled some of the void. The cause is always different; but always leads to a scramble up the hill I live on through back gardens and over fences, well ahead of the water. Seems to have been ripped straight from the end of Deep Impact. In fact, I love that scene, and have it on DVD. Which probably proves something about the influence of cinema.

Beyond The Infinite

Screenshot from Space Odyssey, BBC, 2004

By now anyone reading this blog will have composed an eschewed psychological profile of me. Perhaps the most interesting things are happening inside, not out. A reflection of existence once we'd been to the moon and bought the tat.

Among the small assortment of recurring dreams I have, is a particularly adaptive one. The core elements remain static but the circumstances which frame it are always different. In the 'Astronomic' dream some ridiculously large and visible heavenly object rises/sets/appears in the sky. By this point most of the framing has dropped away and I'm concerned with relentlessly photographing it and staring straight at it as my mind melts.

Sometimes it's a spectacular pumpkin Moonrise/set, a gigantic Jupiter hanging on the horizon, or most recently Comet Holmes (which I have yet to see in reality, despite much effort). In the most strange version I was equipped with large binoculars and witnessed the true structure of the universe - which I can reveal is a lattice of red and green pipes not unlike that old screensaver.

[179]

When You Think Your Toys Have Gone Berserk

When I was a toddler, one of my uncles bought me a particular stuffed toy as a birthday or Christmas present. This toy was the eponymous character of a mid-late 80s tv show. I was very fond of this toy and the show.

I've Got Plenty of Java and Chesterfield Kings, But I Feel Like Crying. I Wish I Had a Heart of Ice

In the Venusberg, John Collier, 1901

Time was I would get preoccupied trying to recall the rest of a dream from the one segment that popped into my mind in the mornings. It finally prompted me to start writing them down while I could remember them - mostly because some were quite entertaining or deeply fascinating. Then there's the black dogs which sit on my shoulder all day.

I imagine exiles dream of home but wake up with the same feeling. Her face fades under the inertia of time. Just the name is enough to bring the feeling back for a few minutes of rapid eye movement. Eventually, as always, I wake up with that elated feeling in my chest which within seconds veers to obliteration of the soul as reality thumps me square in the heart.

Probably explains why almost all songs are about it. Call me Deacon Blues.

[144]

I Was Your Fortress You Had To Burn

Picasso, self-portrait (Picasso With Cloak), 1901

As I wrote last July, a lot of my dreams are set in places I haven't been for a long time: primary school, secondary school, and my old house. There may be a subconscious reason for that.

I lived in that fairly-large house from 1991 to July 2000: that's from the age of 5 to 14. Physiologically, that a lot of growing-up. But also consider how a person's personality can change. By the time I had moved into the house I currently reside, I was two weeks into third year.

In plain terms, I was never particularly happy in primary school. From Primary 5 onwards I had a good run of teachers - Mrs Cameron, Ms MacKenzie (maiden name for first few months, although I can't remember what it changed to), and Mrs Fortune - and through those improved last three years I started to become less introverted.

Foreign 6: Running Still, Standing So Close

If I was still doing Psychology, I'd have good case study material: interactions between several male adolescents in the presence of a single female adolescent. Lots of 'watch me drown this other guy!' Anyway, I've been having 3 dreams a night for a few days now - that is, each is interrupted by a trip to the toilet because I've been drinking a lot of Irn-Bru every night. This morning, one was more disturbing...

Foreign 4: Strength to Dream

For the past 2 months of so, I've had this recurring dream - it's not a nightmare, but it doesn't invoke warm, fuzzy feelings of content. It always takes place in my old house; the loft of which was converted into my bedroom in 1996. Everytime, my room is exactly as it was before we moved-out - the two beds, the Velux windows, my old Aptiva in the corner.

All That We See or Have Seen

A Prounen, El Lissitzky, 1925

From last Tuesday's post:

[...]you can cease to hold particular feelings toward someone overnight (at least, consciously - whether my dreams will betray me...)

Touché, my unconscious mind. I had a dream fairly similar to the one I had a few weeks ago and I was obviously still thinking about the world war research I mentioned in my last post, as the relevant 'act' of this morning's (lunchtime to the rest of you) dream took place at some sort of conference on the world wars, just after the lunch meal. Opposite at my table was her. I looked at her, and once again that was it.

The rest of my dream had something to do with The Simpsons (which I've been watching far too much of lately) and a small stream, which I can't say has been on my mind - can't say there were any red curtains either.

I woke up feeling crap thanks to dreaming of her when I'm trying to fucking move on. I'm trying not to think about it, or I'll end up in a depressing spiral of regret. I've realised that I've just listened to WXJL Tonight twice in a row. I can only hope I speak fluent French in the morning.

Just when I think I'm winning, when I've broken every door
The ghosts of my life grow wilder than before
Just when I thought I could not be stopped
When my chance came to be king
The ghosts of my life grow wilder than the wind

[263]

It's Been One Week

There was a lot of sneezing and coughing last Friday (24th) afternoon at college. Perhaps that's where I got it from, regardless, I was fine right up until about 8PM when, despite being in the presence of a fully lit gas fire, I felt very cold. By midnight I couldn't stand it and went to bed - an unusual move on my part.