Last night I had the most nonsensical dream. It featured a woman I’d maybe met once about 40 years ago. I only knew of her because my then husband was a college instructor at the same college as her husband.
I doubt I’d ever been in her home. And I don’t even recall her name.
Yet I dreamed about her in vivid detail.
The Puzzle Of Dreams:
Aren’t dreams strange?
I’ve always thought that dreams are our brain’s way of making sense of our lives. Of working through things.
But why on earth did this woman have a starring role in my dream?
I know I’ll never figure that out. But the dream has stayed with me, interrupting my routine and morning thoughts.
Did you know that mulling over important thoughts, things we think about often or that have emotional significance, activates our dorsolateral prefrontal cortex (DLPFC)? This is a brain region that facilitates memory.
So physically, dreams are responses to our thoughts.
But I barely knew this woman, and then only in passing. So how could she possibly have figured into my thoughts?
The Who, What, Where, When & Why:
Therein lies the mystery that dreams run the continuum of who, what, where, when and why.
In the dream I was decorating her home for some event. Since I doubt I was ever in her home, then how did I know the rooms and layout?
Were the physical facts just manufactured in my dream?
People Are Complicated:
I have always been one of those people more interested in meanings and concepts than people. It’s like finding the end of a string and pulling to see where it goes.
People are so complicated. You can never know what they’re going to do next. They may care about you briefly and then walk away, never to be seen again. You can’t put your finger on their impulses.
But if it isn’t all that important to you to have a constant stream of people in your life, then it’s really just a blip on your radar. You just stick your head in a book and move on.
I guess that’s why I choose to be alone most of the time. People confuse me. I don’t usually get their subtle signals and they often don’t mean what they say. Or say what they mean.
A Fascination With Words:
As a child I learned that many words can be akin to other words. They can be used almost interchangeably.
Words can just be subtle shades of expression. I thoroughly enjoyed writing them down and then moving them around like puzzle pieces.
None were exact fits. Some worked better than others. But it was my way of learning dexterity with words. It’s like using a muscle over and over again. That muscle becomes more defined.
Why did I really need physical playmates when I had all this stuff swimming around in my head to entertain myself with?
Your Life’s Fascination:
The sum of your parts make up the whole of who you are. Whatever occupied and fascinated and drew you as a child usually creates who you are as an adult.
If you were more introverted as a child, chances are you will remain that way.
And if you didn’t really need people around you then, it’s likely that your own thoughts will be better company to you when you’re all grown up.
Like me, you might just be content to row your own boat out to sea. You will take notice of everything around you. Words will form in your head to serve as bookmarks to your thoughts.
You’ll never be lonely because your thoughts keep you company, and there’s always a mystery to be solved. Your curiosity will keep you engaged. Books will entertain you and make you think.
Sometimes just being around people is too mentally taxing to be worth the effort.
People say that it is the quiet ones that always surprise you. They fade into the background and don’t want or need to be noticed.
And unless, for instance, they write a blog and tell you their daily thoughts, you wouldn’t even know they exist.
I don’t usually work out what I will write here each day. It’s just easier to look at a blank screen and let whatever is in my head at that moment tell a story. Or posit a question.
It’s a place where I attempt to work out the causation of my dreams. However nonsensical they may be. Where I engage with all of you, which is basically all the social activity I seem to need.
Every day, if you have the time to read all the way to the end (and sometimes you won’t due to time constraints or interest), you’ll derive your own personal meaning from what I write.
And like dreams, that meaning will stem from thoughts you might not even recall you had.