Friday Finds Me Still Dreaming

I was all set to go on and on about my Mr Torso sighting today, shaved head and goggles above the water most of the time, until...good god rising up the pool steps and I lose all power of speech and reason...and I finally figured out who he sounds like, Roger Davis of 1960s TV fame (it's a Dark Shadows thing, shut up!). But I've been even more distracted than that.

Early this morning, like 3am probably, I was in the midst of a family drama involving three brothers and their Philly-Italian mom, who had just moved into her very first house of her own, and they were helping her move in, and tussling like brothers in their 20s do, and I was there, one of her gal pals, but I had to get to work at my warehouse, but no one had eaten all day, so she was making all this fuss to get us all to sit down and have some kind of dinner.

Where does this all come from? I do not know, and it has been happening all my life. So all during the day today, I am just a shade away from being fully back into that dream-thing, as if it's running underneath everything else I'm doing, and if I just ease off the attention I'm paying to, let's say, driving, or talking to someone, whatever it is, I am 100% fully back into this dream. Sometimes a dream can hang on for a few days, until it is supplanted by another totally different but just as intense dream, which carries me like a flying carpet for at least 24 hours. Does this happen to everybody?

It doesn't bother me anymore, it's entertaining, unless it's one of those horrific nightmares that hang on way too long and I can't shake it so I'll write it down to try and let it go that way. I write a lot of the dreams down anyway, it's good practice, and they may as well have a purpose. They become drawings, short stories, paintings to do, things to be on the lookout for, tangents to research in the Awake World (ask me about Carthage) and some scarier than any horror film I've ever seen. So I stick to Hammer Film Horror, because I don't need any further help there. The psychics I've spoken to have a pretty consistent theory about this, as do the astrologers, and most of my friends just think it's weird, so what? It feels like an interactive film. Actual movie making is just way too complicated for this stage of my life, but I could shovel pitch concepts like gold coins.

Maybe it's the knitting withdrawal setting in. No, that's not it, but something like old wooden lace bobbins can show up in an entire grimy, smoky HBO Deadwood-type Old West dream, which revisits characters I dreamt about in that same locale 25 years ago. Seeing those bobbins at a thrift store is enough to trigger this entire immersive revisiting of this place and cast of characters that drives the slightly askew plot along a bit more---leaving me floating between these two worlds for a day or two.

We all have this---right? We just quit talking about dreams after a certain point in life, right?

Wonder why?