Thoughts On Things

Entry 35

When I dream, I am not me.

Or, at the very least, I am not wholly me. Memories, morals, personality - all these things disappear. I have no control over my activities in the dreams I remember, I simply remember having the experience of doing them. I remember experiencing the emotions within these dreams, yet they are not my emotions. It is all from my perspective, but it is not me - there is no conscious self there. 

Within these dreams, memories of reality are only half-incorporated, in grotesque ways so far removed from reality that they seem stranger than fiction. In my dreams, this "self" lacks any ability to distinguish what is from the "real", waking world and what is born entirely from the dream. I often hear my alarm clock when I fall asleep late and dream as it goes off - yet, I never recognize it as an alarm, as a signal to wake up. Rather, it is simply an ambient annoyance that constantly resounds within this "self's" ears, with no obvious source. Oddly enough, it is never acknowledged, despite being met with annoyance - there is no attempt to stop the sound, no attempt to locate its source. Perhaps, some part of this "self" does know what it is, but refuses to acknowledge it, as it heralds the beginning of the day and the end of dreams - it signals and calls for the death of the dreaming "self" that, corrupted by memories from a "real" life is unrecognizable from this dreaming "self". 

I remember one dream where I wander through some vague street market style area within some sort of car park. Floor of concrete, an infinite foggy darkness concealing the size of the room and the whereabouts of the ceiling and walls, allowing me to see only 20 feet in front. The dreaming "self" does not mind, and instead peruses various products laid out on black tables. Others are present, but they are not detailed, just vague shoppers, as if the dream's architect remembers that shoppers are often at shops. The only thing I remember present on these tables was some sort of raunchy magazine. The rest is vague, mere filler, again a poor attempt to imitate a preconceived notion of reality and what a shop should be. And, completely out of place, that annoying alarm that bounces off the concrete walls with no identifiable source. 

Another dream I had begins with this "self" shooting someone with no hesitation. There's no information to be gleamed about this person - no gender, height, race, nothing I can remember. They are simply a person. The "self" and the dream architect, perhaps one in the same, simply knew it wanted to shoot a person - it did not matter what this person was like, just that they could be identified as a person. Next, a full on police chase and hideaway - no remorse, no excitement, nothing, merely the alarm again providing an annoying ambient noise. 

Whether or not these reveal anything about my character, I know not. I don't think they're a window to some sort of hidden sensual or violent desires. They bear no real resemblance to anything real. I believe they're the result of a failing, tired and half-active mind attempting to create something based on limited memories.