Dreams

I don't generally remember my dreams, but lately I've been having a spate of nocturnal mental movies that stick around well after wakefulness.  Not only am I able to remember the dreams, but I remember - and to an extent, I feel - the emotions I felt in the dreamworld as well.  It's an odd sensation, to say the least... but then, dreams are odd things.  Not much makes sense in them, though in the dreamstate, all seems perfectly normal and rational.

I'd like to think that dreams are something more than just the randomly-firing neurons processing daily events and thoughts, storing them away for later... part of me would love it if dreams were a way of reaching out into some great, collective unconscious, making contact, if fleetingly, with fellow dreamers.  Sharing in their journeys, as it were.  It would be fascinating to discover that all through the night, our dream selves are free to wander in and out of scenarios rising out of shared thoughts, desires, memories.  It would certainly explain some of the more distressing dreams I've had - and part of me would like to think that those upsetting scenes and encounters weren't my doing at all, but were instead the product of someone else's mind.

In the same way, I'd love to believe that the friendships I've made in dreams lingered in more than just my own mind... that somewhere out there, another person is mulling over a particularly pleasant dream he had, and wondering who and where that other player - me - came from, and if I'm just a figment of his own imagination.  I can't really make myself believe this, of course... I am, at my core, too rational for that.  But it would be nice, nevertheless.

Maybe I *WOULD* Like To Live On The Moon...

... I'd like to visit the moon
On a rocket ship high in the air
Yes, I'd like to visit the moon
But I don't think I'd like to live there
Though I'd like to look down at the Earth from above
I would miss all the places and people I love
So although I might like it for one afternoon
I don't want to live on the moon.
                                            - Jeff  Moss

This was the song I named my blog for - a gentle song from my son's Sesame Street CD, one that touched me in a way I didn't think children's songs could.  It seemed, at the time, to sum up everything that I was - tone and lyric, mood and innuendo.  Of how I dream of Going Places and Doing Things - Great Things, Important Things - but how I am tethered to the present, to my current place, to the life that chafes at me, sometimes, but that I am mostly comfortable with... even when I dream of more.

And do I dream...!  Here I am, a four-decade-old wife and mom, and still I daydream the way I did when I was a gawky, gangly adolescent... of what life would be if I could be a cherished member of an elite fighting force, not strong or swift but loyal to the core and valuable to my team; the confidante of wolves, keeping their wisdom, knowing their stories, a member of the pack; the rider of a dragon - not a Weyrleader, no, not I - but a dragonrider nonetheless, bound heart and mind to a beautiful, intelligent beast who shared my soul. 

But I'm none of that, and sometimes - like now - even writing these figments down seems silly.  Unworthy, even.  It stretches imagination too far.  I could never manage a military life - I'm too soft of heart and spirit, too gentle in voice and manner, shaped more like a picture book snowman than like a hard-bodied female warrior in a comic book.  If Beachhead, drill sergeant for the G.I. Joe team, were to chew me out, I'd likely burst into tears!  Confidante of wolves?  HAH!  I hate sleeping in anything other than a proper bed, have no tolerance for gnats or biting flies, and take "weather wimp" to entirely new levels (it should be noted that this past Columbus Day weekend was the first time all year I went to the beach).  Besides that, if wolves truly are sticklers for pack order and dominance, I'd be the omega, likely as not.  I'm not exactly alpha-tough.  And as for being a dragonrider... well, on my bad days, I wonder what dragon would ever have ME, flawed and insecure as I am.  On my good days, I figure I'd at least be a likely candidate for a fire lizard... maybe.

I would like to visit the moon, metaphorically.  Is it so bad to know that I wouldn't want to stay there, forever?  Dreams are all well and good - but you can't live in a dream, can't feed your family on starlight and moondust, and if you hold out for Prince Charming for too long in the love department, you wind up very much alone and disillusioned, wondering why you didn't take that honest frog when he presented himself.  I can't ever give up my dreams... it would be the end of me, if I did.  But I can't ignore reality, either.

I think it's easier to kick Reality in its derriere, anyway, and invite the dreams in - rather than the other way around.

So if I should visit the moon
Well, I'll dance on a moonbeam, and then
I will make a wish on a star
And I'll wish myself home once again.
Though I'd like to look down at the Earth from above
I would miss all the places and people I love
So although I may go, I'll be coming home soon...
'Cause I don't want to live on the moon.
No, I don't want to live
On the moon.