Skip to main content

Dreaming

I've noticed that when I stop trying to push my emotions away, when I am more conscious of feeling my feelings, I dream more. Not just more, almost constantly. Vivid, complicated, intense dreams. I can't help but feel that the two things are related. 

By being more in tune with my feelings am I allowing my sub conscious more freedom? Am I allowing my inner voice to speak rather than forcing it to be silent? I'm not a huge one for dream interpretation, my dreams are usually inspired by conversations I've had or something I've been watching. I don't necessarily think there are hidden messages in my dreams, I'm more interested in the act of dreaming itself. 

I've always had a lot of dreams. They are always very detailed and, as long as I think about them as soon as I wake up, I'm easily able to remember them. However for most of this year I've either not dreamt or been completely unable to recall any dreams at all. The human brain is a fascinating thing.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Week One... Or Should I Say Week Two Thousand One Hundred and Seventy Nine...

 That's how many weeks I have been alive (give or take a couple of days). Two thousand one hundred and seventy-nine. Yet here I am still fighting the same fights I have always fought. Self-image, self-acceptance, unrelenting standards, imposter syndrome.  Once again I find myself in a body that feels uncomfortable and unhealthy. It crept up on me slowly and suddenly all at the same time. I still barely eat any refined sugar. I turn down the lollies and cakes and doughnuts at work. It's not even a struggle, I no longer enjoy the way sugar makes my body feel. But my old nemesis, potato chips, remains undefeated. I eat potato chips to fill the emptiness in my soul. To feel as miserable physically as I do mentally or emotionally. To get comfort from an association with my childhood. It is the struggle I can't overcome. The war I can't win. So after months of trying on my own to no avail, months of the scales not budging, I have signed up for a healthy eating plan. I'm n...

I don't want to do this anymore

I am so over it right now. Everything feels hard. Everything feels shit. Everything makes me want to cry. I don't want to be a person any more. I don't want to be an anything any more. My children are smart. They get good grades, score well on NAPLAN, their teachers love them. Why then must they continue to do stupid things? I am so sick of a child running to tell me that so-and-so did such-and-such to me, I am sick of them hurting each other, I am sick of them destroying things, I am sick of them whinging, complaining, walking past rubbish on the floor, leaving shit everywhere, pretending they can't see the dog wee on the floor, having rooms that looking like the aftermath of a break and enter. I am sick of washing dishes, of sweeping floors, of the endless amounts of washing and folding and cleaning and tidying and cooking and planning and thinking. I am sick of feeling guilty for not being able to do those things that I should be doing, of feeling guilty that my husband...

now you're just somebody that i used to know

this song by gotye (good thing this is typed or i'd still be stumbling over the pronunciation... goat-ee-ay... gotcha...goat-yee...) is one of my favourites at the moment and is on constant rotation at my house and in my car. the song is about two ex lovers but has gotten me thinking about all those people that were once an intrinsic part of my life, helped me to define who i was and my place in the world and are now just some people that i used to know. we all have them. those people that we thought we would be friends with forever, that we talked to every day, hung out with all the time, people who knew all our in jokes because they helped create them, knew all the stories of our past. then suddenly you wake up one day and realise its been a month since you saw them, then its six months, then you can't remember the last time you saw them. you think about calling them but it feels awkward, then you tell yourself that they could call you if they wanted to. time passes and the...