In my dreams (August 2015)


I had an excellent day today so I’m finishing with something I’ve wanted to do for close to seven months now – writing this to all of you.

The more often you do (or don’t do) something, the easier it is to keep doing it, I guess.

The day started with an odd dream*. I was in a landscape of plateaued hills and muddy caves and wooden houses raised on bricks, chasing a woman with brown hair who was trying to kill a small baby boy.

I stopped her four or five times, once with seconds to spare but a knife fell, before I woke myself up, shook it off, and got ready for the day.

The dream unsettled me. Usually when I dream about women I don’t know the dreams are positive. I read them as an affirmation that my instincts are leading me the right way, that the wind and the current are taking me the right way across the Great Ocean.

Not this time.

Who knows what my brain was up to? It could have been simply an cunning ploy to shock me into waking up, ninety minutes after the first alarm had rung.

In the language I’ve been writing with my subconscious, I took it to mean that sometimes I need to fight, and then keep fighting, to keep the little ideas alive long enough for them to grow up and become something that can look after itself.

So I decided to try and do something a little differently today. Something that had come up the night before, in constructive feedback on my book that I realised applied just as much to me as it did my lead character**. So I did, and it felt good.

Then, on the same theme, I realised when I got home, sat down to dinner, and opened a book it’s taken six months to get halfway through – Hannah Arendt’s On Revolution – that my day had been made great by six awesome women.

There were the three colleagues (including the boss) I’m working with a couple of days a week at the moment. And then the three good friends: one I’ve known for ages, one for a while, and one I’m only starting to really get to know.

What does all this mean? Who knows? Who cares? At the very least, if you got this far, it means it’s readable.

In a couple of hours I’ll probably work it out in my dreams.



PS: So, the last six months. I helped a friend get elected to state parliament and set up her electoral office, joined a science fiction publishing collective, performed my poetry publicly for the first time, wrote a (still unreadable) 90,000 word first draft of my novel, and a few other things too! Hopefully some of these things have involved catching up with you somehow. If they haven’t, let’s rectify that in the second half of the year?

* I take a Jungian approach to dreams, where dreams are “a map of [my]future psychological evolution towards a more balanced relationship between [my] ego and [my] Self”

** Her name’s Alleyah and she’s twelve parts awesome 😉

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