sunday energy #37

let me tell you about this dream i had

I don’t know anything about dreams. I stopped trying to interpret my dreams a long time ago. I always write them down, because a lot of them are funny, but then I leave them alone. I figure the meaning behind them is between my subconscious and God. But lately, I’ve been wondering about my dreams. Lately, they’ve lingered with me longer into the day when I wake up. They’ve felt intricate and complicated and stressful in ways that skew more towards nightmares, really, except they aren’t exactly unpleasant or unsettling. Just sort of eerie and unfamiliar.

For instance, the other night, I dreamed that a man who looked like Ben Whishaw was staying at some strange, futuristic seaside resort with his wife and three or maybe four kids. There seemed to be no staff, no other people really, than him and his family. The trip, I could sense, was a last-ditch effort to preserve the corpse of a marriage that was more than dead and already decomposing. So not-Ben Whishaw was feeling very despondent and over it. He looked at his wife (who in this dream was really nothing more than a vague shadow on the periphery of his awareness) and his children (who looked nothing like him) and wondered how, exactly, they had ended up here.

Then in the way that dreams do the wife and the kids and the table with its murky breakfast spread disappeared, and not-Ben Whishaw was suddenly standing on a very high cliff overlooking a beach with bright pink sand and, beyond that, a roiling sea. I can’t remember what he was thinking about. But he was thinking about something and then he looked down at the beach and saw his wife, blurry, having sex with some man.