Dreams. Endless streams of parallel lives I never lived, outcomes of present and past situations, all glimpsed through that numinous mist, at the same time so fuzzy at the edges and so vividly bright. All the journeys I never made, the houses I never lived in, the people I never met, the solutions (so clear, so obvious) to problems I never knew were so pressing but which vanish on contact with the waking world.
Another day, another early train to Watford. Sleepy. Woke up several times in the night, the second time escaping from a dream in which I was trying to escape... what was it, it was a version of the Evil dream, in which this all-powerful, all-encompassing entity, if it is an entity which is a sum of all evil (but is other things as well) is going to come, I will have to fight it and apparently win at first, to inevitably lose in the end. A lot of people were packed in a building with leaky roofs, praying and in terror while getting soaked from the dripping ceiling, we were outside and I had a glimpse of what was coming and was trying to persuade my sister that we (a small group of five or six) had to escape before it came. It was difficult, everybody in the group wanted to gather their things, wanted to go back to the house where most of our things were but there was no time to do that. I had a small car in which I couldn't fit all of our group, it wasn't clear whether we had another vehicle or whether the car would take us far away enough in time. I realised it wouldn't... and made myself wake up, annoyed because I only had six hours to sleep and had already wasted at least one when I'd woken up the first time. And at the same time, still frozen in dread from the dream.
Another day, another early train to Watford. Sleepy. Woke up several times in the night, the second time escaping from a dream in which I was trying to escape... what was it, it was a version of the Evil dream, in which this all-powerful, all-encompassing entity, if it is an entity which is a sum of all evil (but is other things as well) is going to come, I will have to fight it and apparently win at first, to inevitably lose in the end. A lot of people were packed in a building with leaky roofs, praying and in terror while getting soaked from the dripping ceiling, we were outside and I had a glimpse of what was coming and was trying to persuade my sister that we (a small group of five or six) had to escape before it came. It was difficult, everybody in the group wanted to gather their things, wanted to go back to the house where most of our things were but there was no time to do that. I had a small car in which I couldn't fit all of our group, it wasn't clear whether we had another vehicle or whether the car would take us far away enough in time. I realised it wouldn't... and made myself wake up, annoyed because I only had six hours to sleep and had already wasted at least one when I'd woken up the first time. And at the same time, still frozen in dread from the dream.
flaviomatani: (dreamscape sepia)
( Feb. 21st, 2017 07:16 am)
Waking up at 4:15 when you have to get up at 5:20 is not all that much fun -mostly because you anticipate what the day will be like, running on four hours' sleep. Try to recover that hour of sleep by listening to Brian Greene doing a Ted Talk on why there are multiple -indeed, infinite, universes. That doesn't help much as it sets me on a train of thought about what energy can possibly be and about string theory and my almost non-existent mathematical foundation which means my understanding of any of those things can only ever be in prose. And so the alarm goes off and it is time for shower and coffee and yawning and checking email and collecting the things I'll need for my teaching day away, all the big thoughts of universes and elementary particles washed down the washbasin together with the odd dreams of houses and lives I've never lived in places I have never been to.
Lull myself to sleep with Ted talks on astrophysics or consciousness, at very low volume so I cannot make out alll they're actually saying (which would otherwise be interesting and therefore not conducive to falling asleep. Float downstream still not quite half asleep, thinking that for all the outer space stories my laptop may be telling, of black hoes circling around each other until they crash, or of the intricately complex workings of the constituent parts of our transient brains, my dreams are most often predictable and rather pedestrian and only those abstract images that form in my mind as I'm falling asleep would seem to evoke anything of what I'm not quite any longer listening to. Will probably wake up a couple of times in the night; at some point I'll sort of half-wake up, turn around, put down the lid of the laptop, check the time. Only one hour and a half's sleep. Four and a half hours before I get up. Is that enough sleep? Of course not. But if you think too much about it you'll get even less sleep.

Dreams seldom stray from a dozen or so themes with variations. They often involve a journey that doesn't go quite as planned, through strange places that I've been to before but have changed and don't quite function as expected. The journey back from those places often takes the rest of the night and several different dreams, in which most often I lose or have lost something important, often my guitar which has been left behind. Other dreams, as I have mentioned before (and put in a blog where I keep account of some of those dreams) involve my old house in West Caracas, crumbling down as it always was, often much worse, with leaks and fallen brickwork and broken toilets but also with new rooms and occupants -and that enormous yellow moon coming out from behind the Avila mountains. I'm often back there to live but not of my own volition; some circumstance has brought me back and I cannot leave. Very often the house has been sold and I'm given a room that I will pay a rent for, a bare room with little of the things central to my life then or now.

How those dreams may come about and what meaning they may have in my mind is perhaps clear enough but... I don't like to analyse them too much. I prefer to see them as vistas into misty, half-unknown worlds inside my head, or perhaps sometimes glimpses of parallel lives that I could have lived but didn't. They're part of my story but I don't like to take them apart -it feels as though they might unravel and disappear, taking with them an important part of that story.
Another suburban train, another school teaching day ahead of me. Not enough sleep, not enough dreams or time for the brain to flush whatever it is it has to clean overnight as we sleep, if it true that , as they say,that is the function of sleep and not that of a communicating vessel between universes, between differently instances of you in unreachable places, if places they are, in contemporary tines far away, if contemporary is a word that can make sense when talking about universes that go along different narrative tracks, along different timelines. Four hours’ sleep. Not enough.

I only had time to have a small peek at another place where I had lived all my life –instead of this newly autumnal London, that small sunny town in Northern Italy where I have never been. Didn’t get to make it to the house I live in, which I share with some other musician whose face or name I cannot recall. I was on my way there, finally, after long murky journeys, when I had to get up and put out the alarm. Yes, 5:20 am again –it must be a Tuesday and it must be a school teaching day in Watford for me. Does it get more difficult each time, each new iteration of the cycle? You bet.
flaviomatani: (dreamscape sepia)
( Apr. 19th, 2016 09:27 am)
It is so clear when you think about it in your dreams. Everything connects beautifully. There is a reason that you can clearly see, a purpose and a means to work it out it and work along with it. Then you wake up and it.. still is there, clear as crystal and it all makes sense. You stop the alarm, get up, set the coffee maker on, grab the toothbrush... and it slowly begins to melt into the reality of the world; grasping at it while you can still see it is of no avail. It goes and by the time you come out of the shower it's gone. What shreds of it you can still grasp make no sense, they're just the workings of the brain repairing itself from the previous day, or those of the obscurest chemistry of the mind, as remote from our understanding as Andromeda. Never mind, it will come back in the next night's sleep and then maybe we can keep hold of it. Maybe that once.
flaviomatani: (dreamscape with moon 1)
( Jan. 12th, 2016 09:27 am)
A sunny morning on a train to Watford, another strange day in which everybody I know is mourning somebody they never met -but who has touched their lives and given them a soundtrack and a momentum, even perhaps helped give it some significance.

As the train moves ever closer to the beginning of my teaching day, I try to recall what I was dreaming last night, or only two hours ago -it seemed momentous at the time, I woke up clearly remembering everything vividly -or so I thought- and now I cannot even recall what it was about, what the astounding insight I was having of the connection between things apparently unrelated in the real world was. All an illusion, but so seductive at the time, leaving me longing for whatever it was that is now lost down the washbasin's plughole.
Getting those dreams again in which I never came to the UK but instead went to study (and stayed) in some town in Northern Italy. I'm never actually there in the dreams -I'm always somewhere else (normally Caracas) and something prevents me from going back -and my guitars, my computers and my books, as well as my working life, are all back there, so it is almost a nightmare although not quite. But I could describe in detail my room in the house I share there (in the dream) with another musician, the little balcony, the battered garden set in it, the plants, the old music stand I have (don't know where that comes from, never had a wooden music stand). Like peeking into a world that could have been, or into that multi-dimensional shift-space of possible lives that never were....
flaviomatani: (dreamscape sepia)
( Jan. 14th, 2014 07:11 am)
Had been trying to sleep for hours, having to get up early on Monday -early, but not quite as early as today. I can now testify that Nytol doesn't do anything at all, at least for me; maybe someone will come along to tell me that I wasn't taking it in the prescribed manner, one hour before going to bed and after taking a shower, drinking a glass of hot milk and counting five hundred thousand sheep. I was trying to think of nothing, to evoke landscapes of distant beaches with surf hitting the reefs or of alien planets with rivers of methane and purple rains. To no avail.... well, that had been the previous night. Last night was different

One way I found to finally go to sleep was to start an iPad app that produces a white noise in the manner of beach surf. That was a good idea, I slept and had beautiful dreams and woke up shortly before the alarm clock to that soothing seaside noise. Only electronic imitation seaside noise, you can tell if you play it at a loud volume but not at the very quiet level I needed it in order to fall asleep to it.

I dreamt of that noise; there were a group of people, a choir, who were going to try and record a vocal imitation of those sounds. They were comparing the sound they were producing to the one from the machine, which in my dreams wasn't the tablet but a large contraption a bit like a US mail-box. The noise from the choir was very different to the electronic surf but quite beautiful in the same way. Maybe I should attempt to write a piece of music using that idea. I woke up at the obscene hour I have to on Tuesdays but strangely refreshed, with the torpor of mornings but also as if I had just returned from a satisfying travel.
flaviomatani: (dreamscape sepia)
( Apr. 13th, 2012 11:57 am)
I didn't sleep all that well last night, again -and there were lots of interesting dreams of which the only thing I can recall is that they were interesting, which is a bit frustrating. Worse, I wake up remembering one vividly and then it dawns on me that I won't remember it in the morning so I keep repeating to myself what was happening in the dream. To no use: I still don't remember it in the morning....
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flaviomatani: (seventhseal chess)
( Dec. 6th, 2011 06:19 am)
Those 5:30 am rises. More coffee is needed.

Also, have just realised why (perhaps) the world of Neal Stephenson's 'Anathem' grabbed me so much. I have been having for many years a sort of recurring dream-theme (rather than a recurrent dream, as there are very many variations of the dream) that is very similar to the many-world-tracks culminating scene in the book. A comprehensively terrifying dream that makes me wake up trying to forget it or trying to write it down immediately. No more details in case somebody's about to read the book, as it would be a bit spoilery.

Also have had a mild but annoying back-ache for a few days now, something between my shoulder blades in the upper third of the back, I suspect bad sleeping position (maybe I lean hard against the headboard while I'm trying to figure out the world-track in my recurrent recursive dream..) but not sure.

Already 06:16 am? Good morning, silent world outside...
flaviomatani: (dreamscape sepia)
( Apr. 12th, 2011 07:22 pm)
In my dreams' blog: a horrific dream (although nothing much happens in it) a couple of nights ago... and an earlier iteration of the same dream or, rather, the same general story.
flaviomatani: (dreamscape sepia)
( Jun. 10th, 2010 08:18 am)
 The combination of Ibuprofen and antibiotics seems to produce strange, vaguely interesting dreams. In one, Gaius Baltar, the baddie in Battlestar Galactica, was conducting an orchestra but the packing cases for the instruments were between him and the orchestra so he had to jump and gesticulate to try and get the musicians to do what he wanted. In another one, I was in a green pasture, a picnic sort of situation perhaps, and something had gone badly wrong. Then I discovered in the dream that reality could be seen as a sort of computer filing system and I went up the folder hierarchy, finding that there were many, many instances of the same scene with small variations, so I spent some time looking for one in which whatever it was that had gone wrong, hadn't; there seemed to be an endless number of instances of the scene. Then  I woke up before I could find one...
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flaviomatani: (Default)
( Apr. 24th, 2007 01:24 pm)
Strange dream last night, involving some of the people that'd been to the St George dinner. I suppose there is a connection.


cut to avoid excessive annoyance )
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flaviomatani: (Default)
( Apr. 24th, 2007 01:24 pm)
Strange dream last night, involving some of the people that'd been to the St George dinner. I suppose there is a connection.


cut to avoid excessive annoyance )
Tags:
I see a lot of folk had quite extraordinary dreams last night. I had another version of my travelling dreams, in which I have to go to some city far south and east -something like somewhere in Brasil, I should think, since I often start in Caracas. It is a bit tedious to tell so I'll probably stick it in my dreams blog at some point.

Doctor's appointment today, at UCH. My knee is not quite as destroyed as it sometimes feels, if that makes sense. They're still sending me to physio and seeing me again in a couple of months. Tip: when going to a doctor's appointment, skin-tight jeans and New Rock boots (without zip) are not a fantastic idea.

Practising a bit more guitar -as I should, as I have to play on Thursday.

Lovely day, out there. Makes me feel like crawling back to bed, somehow...

have a good day, folks.
Tags:
I see a lot of folk had quite extraordinary dreams last night. I had another version of my travelling dreams, in which I have to go to some city far south and east -something like somewhere in Brasil, I should think, since I often start in Caracas. It is a bit tedious to tell so I'll probably stick it in my dreams blog at some point.

Doctor's appointment today, at UCH. My knee is not quite as destroyed as it sometimes feels, if that makes sense. They're still sending me to physio and seeing me again in a couple of months. Tip: when going to a doctor's appointment, skin-tight jeans and New Rock boots (without zip) are not a fantastic idea.

Practising a bit more guitar -as I should, as I have to play on Thursday.

Lovely day, out there. Makes me feel like crawling back to bed, somehow...

have a good day, folks.
Tags:
flaviomatani: (dreamscape sepia)
( Oct. 12th, 2006 12:13 pm)
An evil, evil dream. And yet it becomes so stale when I try to recount it.....

but I feel there's possibly a good story to write there, although perhaps Lovecraft or Borges have already written it many times...

[Edit ]
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My little evil dream seems to have brought down the Blogspot servers? Oh dear
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flaviomatani: (dreamscape sepia)
( Oct. 12th, 2006 12:13 pm)
An evil, evil dream. And yet it becomes so stale when I try to recount it.....

but I feel there's possibly a good story to write there, although perhaps Lovecraft or Borges have already written it many times...

[Edit ]
Internal Server Error
Error 500


My little evil dream seems to have brought down the Blogspot servers? Oh dear
Tags:
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