I’ve been using Journler on mac for the last few months to help me index my dreams. Whenever I remember my night-time adventures I type it all out in Journler the next morning. This is very similar to my approach in high school, where I kept a dream journal. Back then, over the course of a year my dreams became much more detailed, much more contextually rich and far deeper than I ever could have imagined. You might even say that the experience inspired me to be who I am today. I drifted away from the practice because the university life was not conducive to inner psychological work. However, the same thing is happening now. After about 3 and a half months of dream journaling, I’m getting back to that state. I don’t like sharing dreams too often, but this one was particularly strange and beautiful, I’m sharing it because it might inspire someone to create fiction or create a dream journal themselves.

As Emily Bronte wrote: “I’ve dreamt in my life dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas; they’ve gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the colour of my mind.”

My job was to deliver pizza to an upstairs apartment. I did so and the lady was so depressed. She told me that my sign promised for an, “interesting” year ahead and that her sign guaranteed her a very bad one, she was headed out so at the least she could deal with it while having fun traveling. I was a little skeptical at first but encouraged her to travel because it was great. Then her mom came out and starting speaking in a strange language pointing at me and smiling. I thought she was hitting on me at first, or found me attractive or something. The whole place smelled like cigarette smoke, it was awful and there were black cats walking around. I realized that they were talking about my aura or something like that. I thanked them for their advice and I started to walk away but the pruney mom followed me. She was talking louder and louder. The lady was old and wrinkly as well and her glasses were round and ill-polished. I felt like the subject in a freak show. She re-iterated her comments about the upcoming year and I got a little freaked out.

I walked downstairs and I was in the sunny green grass around the apartment complex. There was a family, a mom and a dad. The dad had black hair and the mom was really tall and had blonde-red hair. They were playing with their two boys and I decided to sit down and watch them for a while. It was absolutely so beautiful. I had to watch non-chalantly because otherwise it would have been weird. But I sat there watching, looking at the joy in the parents faces and the joy in the childrens faces.

I contemplated what all this meant and I heard the voice of the mushroom in my head, it told me “you have to keep your species alive you idiot” and wondered if that was because of some grand eschantonic plan, a goal for history, some cyclical evolutionary cycle or maybe all of that in between. Whatever it was, it was all so grand. And then the pure beauty smacked me in the face. I broke down crying from the glorious nature of it all. The human experience is truly the most beautiful thing, the fact we can express art and beauty… the tears were partially joy and partially lamentation for the vast reaches of humanity that would never embrace the beauty of their triumphs and their suffering. By cutting ourselves off from the realities of the world, we missed out on the beauty of human existence. [Note: I woke up at this point crying; that’s one helluva dream]