i had a dream last night. it wasn't a magnanimous
, save humanity, teach a lesson, oh look how bright the future is going to be, dream. it was mundane. or i should say it was mundane if it had been the dream of a human. it wasn't. it was my fucked up dream. in the dream i was a human, but not just any human. i was john boy walton
i know, what the fuck.
let me tell you a bit about the dream. because if you had had this dream you probably would have forgotten it already. but for me it was unique. i've
never been a human in any of my dreams. usually my dreams are of long walks on the beach, of rolling in grass, of smelling another dogs ass. but in this one i was human. i had two legs, i had two arms, and i had a mole on my face.
now in this dream there was someone trying to kill me. he was a faceless enemy. actually he wasn't faceless, i just couldn't see it. in fact this is what makes the dream so interesting to this dog. the guy had a face, just like he had two feet. but i was lacking the autonomy of vision to look where i wanted to. i could only see what the dream maker (director, author, my subconcious
, etc.) would let me see. i kept trying to look up at the face, but it wouldn't happen. my gaze was out of my control. is that what it is like to be human? do you have the ability to move at your will, but not see what it is that you need to see?
the other thing that was interesting to me was that in most of my dreams, as in my life, smell is the prevalent sense. in this dream sight was. even though it was an impotent sight. a sight that was out of my control. or at least out of the control of john boy.freud
tells us that each of the characters in our dreams are really us. and in the dream i was obviously john boy. i was wearing his clothes, running through his house, knowing exactly where to hide from the enemy. but if freud
is to be believed the enemy was also me, kafka
. so let me get this straight....i'm
running from myself, because i'm
trying to kill myself with a homemade gun type thingy. i know i'm
being chased. i know i'm
in danger, and yet i'm
handicapped because my sense of smell isn't working, and my sight is out of my control. i'm
a funny dog. and i'm
not talking funny haha
talking funny hoho
trying to think of anything that might have spurred on this dream. maybe the nightly visits of the bear on my porch. the smell of that thing wakes me up, and i immediately start to bark, and bark, and bark. much to the chagrin of the big ones. christ
just trying to protect the household, they don't need to yell at me. "quiet, kafka
" well fuck you. first of all i can't help myself. the bark just comes when i smell that big bear. second of all, there is a big bear on the porch. even if it wasn't automatic, i'd
be barking and growling. that is my job. i'm
the protector. i sound the alarm. that is who i am. that is almost all that i am. that is kafka
. and yet the big one yells at me nightly about my bark.ok
, i think this might be the dream trigger. it always helps to write these things down. you should try it sometime.