Remembering Dreams.

c. David Grim (taken 8/19/08)

I usually don't remember my dreams, let alone write about them. A couple of nights ago, I had no trouble falling asleep but woke suddenly at 4:44AM with my heart racing. In my night time wanderings I found betrayal, and got worked up about it. It was an exaggeration of the feelings I had while I was awake, and it felt more real than most of my dreams do. In the very last moment, the one in which I was startled from my slumber, a girl unknown to me gave off a hideous smirking grin, and her teeth were small and packed in and ridiculously pointed- truly a horrific sight that seemed to linger throughout the day.

Last night I dreamed of a local art dealer, who is known for his lavish tastes in decor and entertainment. To me he has become symbolic of a sort of hedonistic approach to life that certainly holds a certain sway over my imagination. He was giving me a tour around his gallery that (in the strange logic of dreams) gave way to an entire amusement compound. Room by room, he showed me his toys. One great space was filled with stand-up arcade games, and another was anchored by several lanes of bowling.

There were many people milling about, yet I seemed to be the focus of his attention. I don't remember all the other wondrous things he had, but rather what was missing. I recall being puzzled by the lack of a darts machine. For some reason I expected that I might find one among the panoramic scene of play. And (in the dream) I confronted him on this lacking. He replied distractedly that he was indeed interested in darts, but for some reason had not gotten around to acquiring a set. In an environment of plenty, I had the impression of finding the single thing that he was missing.