Ponderings...

I have always wanted to create a dream journal, something I could tuck away next to my bed with a pen so that when I wake up in the morning (or whenever I stumble back into consciousness), I could instantly write down what I remember of my dream before it slips away into the abyss. I have been saying this for nine years now, since one of my sophomore English classes back in high school. I have yet to do it.

Until now, I suppose. I was never a fan of this "new-age" blogging trend. It took me a while to understand what people meant when they were talking about their blogs, and frankly, it never posed much interest to me. My life, sadly to say, is busy enough as it is. When do I have time to sit down to use precious minutes to read other people's thoughts (minutes that could be used for anything else... Sleeping... umm, sleeping... Cleaning the apartment... Who am I kidding?) Then a couple of days ago, my best friend/deity/goddess-sister introduced me to her blog... and instantly I was hooked! I sat at my computer, fighting a raging headache for reading without my out-of-prescription glasses, for an hour and read through most of her posts. I have always been a fan of her writing; she puts thoughts and dreams and ideas and just life down on paper (er.... computer...) in a way that, simply put, catches my breath. She is, without a doubt, one of my favorite authors, feminists, maybe just women in general; up there with Maya Angelou, Emily Dickinson, Rachel Carson, Alice Walker, Naomi Wolf, Virginia Woolf... (well, maybe not completely Virginia Woolf... her style of writing perhaps. That's it). Seriously. Check out her beautiful blog here.

I just turned my dream journal into a "shrine" for my best friend... and most of last night's dream has slipped away. Oops! What I can remember is this:

• There was a talent show, I was in it, and singing. "On My Own" from Les Mis, I think.

• I was frantic, because come show time, I didn't know what order the show was in. I didn't know when I was going on. And each playbill that I looked at had a different order listed.

• I was surrounded by people from schools of the past: elementary, middle school, high school, even college. Three people I distinctly remember are my childhood friends Lydia and Stephanie, and a friend from college Joshua.

• The hall we were waiting in to go on stage looked just like the banquet hall from the Wentworth by the Sea.

• My mom and my Uncle Ron from Germany were there to see me perform.

• Whoever was organizing the show stopped the show halfway through because there were so many acts, they didn't realize that there wasn't enough time to get through them all.

• I never got to perform.

I think the purpose of me recording my thoughts is not necessarily to analyze them individually and figure out what they mean, by try to analyze trends and find patterns. I know that when I'm sick with fever, I have crazy f*cked up dreams, but that's probably because my brain is slowly frying itself with sickness. On normal days, when I'm not sick, what do I dream of? No necessarily why, but what?