Sometimes I wonder who’s side my brain is on. I am usually mystified as to the deeper meaning of my dreams. I get a feeling for what they are trying to say, but most of the time it’s either dredging up minutia from the less interesting times of my life (propane or school related) or some kind of free-form rant about random topics of no practical application, without any hope of  understanding. Still waiting for popcorn most of the time, too…

Not so today. I’m perfectly clear on what the message of my last dream, who it was addressed to, and what is expected as a result. So little mist is present surrounding this last dreamscape, that I need to get moisturizer on my life to keep it from cracking.

I was sitting, listening to a guy complain about how unfair it was that he had been overlooked for (a job, or promotion, exactly what was not terribly relevant). He was peeved and was rehashing the indiscretion over again (for at least the n’th time) when I had enough and laid into him.

“Listen, I’m tired of you going on and on about how you were wronged, that your work was at least good enough to be chosen. [Ed note: apparently he was an artist of some kind, and the portfolio he presented was rejected.]

“If you would have taken the energy and effort you spent in complaining and kvetching, and simply taken a piece of paper and a pencil once a day and did a drawing, you would have much more experience and would be better than you were then. As it is you have wasted time and effort without getting anything out of it, and frankly wasted my time as well!” I really laid gave it to him, with gusto and great conviction.

Then I woke up…

And boy, was I ticked, because I knew EXACTLY what this dream meant. Hard to escape pain when you forcefully poke yourself in the eye with a sharp stick. I even tried to go back to sleep quickly so as to forget this lesson from my subconscious better half. No such luck.

So, here is a post. Next is a pencil sketch, a half hour spent on the guitar or keyboard. Previously there was 20 minutes of puzzle solving and a few exercises, a 15 minute walk followed by a reasonable lunch.

Not sure why I still feel guilty, but I presume it will pass eventually…maybe after a few days/weeks/months/years/decades/eons of repeated effort. One can only hope.

Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right! Here I am…

Phred.

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