As
back as I can recall I've been told I talk in my sleep. Random
phrases, mostly, or words that can't be caught, though in my dreams I
know I'm having full-blown conversations: frank discussions and those
of an intricate nature, sometimes with people who in waking I
wouldn't have a lot of chat with, just the exchange of pleasantries
or the usual comments on the weather. Basically, the small talk that
the British engage in more than any other nation.
So
what is going on here? And do these dream conversations actually
take place? so that you don't have to have them all over again (if
you wanted to) in a wakeful state. It's not practice, it's for real.
It's
possible, isn't it? Because haven't you noticed that when you come
across those people you've had recent dream conversations with in
waking life they act sheepishly, as do you? Because, presumably,
neither of you can be sure, entirely sure if the other was or wasn't
there; or one has that uncertainty and the other picks up on it and
displays behaviour different to normal which to the dreamer seems to
suggest: Yes, I was there too!
It's
just so darn awkward! Speaking, gesturing, standing, even. Forget
looking each other in the eye, it's anywhere but, and the laughter's
false: a nervous laugh, a faltering laugh, a laugh that says I know
you've had a dream conversation with me and I know you know I know.
But
do we remember them, that's the point: what these conversations were
about, what was said? Er, no. Em I did this morning, vaguely. Only
bits and pieces, mind, and which now don't seem to hold quite the
same import as they did last night. Whereas in the dream it was deep,
it was meaningful; insightful. I wouldn't go as so far as to say it
was beautiful, because I don't parrot phrases if I don't mean them
and beautiful is not often in my vocabulary. Anyhow, a conversation,
discussion, whatever, can't really be beautiful, can it? If poetry
had been spouted then maybe I would think so, or if something
profound had been said and it had stuck in my mind, but I can't
remember it can I.
But
I do remember the person whom I was speaking with, and their face,
unlike the conversation, refuses to fade. Is that face beautiful?
H'm, possibly. I wouldn't know. They're them, I'm me, that's all I
can say. I know their face as they know mine, not necessarily
intimately, but recognisably so. Unless, of course, the person met
and spoken to in the dream had never been seen (by me) before,
because then, well, I might take more interest in their features, but
then I also forget them, after perhaps wondering: who are you? and do
I know you already? If no A-ha! moment arises then it's bye bye
because wondering further would be a pointless exercise.
The
alternative would be too weird, wouldn't it? To meet someone in a
dream and then meet them in the flesh. Ooh, goosebumps! Nope, best to
wipe them from your memory. And then if that meeting does come about
just have it with a strong sense of deja vu. I know you, I know you,
I know you; where from?
Perhaps
other dreamers though remember what was said and not whom it was said
by. Perhaps for them faces, recognisable and unknown, blur. Only
words: silky spoken, whispered or shouted, remain in the memory and
repeat themselves.
It's
not a topic that's easy to bring up, as to do so might be seen as
intruding catlike, robber-like, into another's mind: into an room
with no door but one which should stay barred to visitors, unless
you're being psychoanalysed and have permitted entry. Dreams are
private.
And
other people, too, if you don't have a relationship with them, don't
really wish to know if you've for some unfathomable reason dreamed of
them. Try it and see the reaction: they will take a few steps back
and the expression on their face will be a mix of horror and
curiosity. Although you might, just might, also get: Oh yeah, kinky?
accompanied with a cheeky wink and an even cheekier smirk. No, on
second thoughts, I advise you not
to do that. And DON'T
(if you're better at remembering utterances) attempt, in real time,
to re-run that conversation either. Real living people won't be word
perfect, and prompting (from you) will not only seem odd but will
deepen the split between dream and reality.
Picture credit: Sleep, c.1800, Francisco Goya (source: WikiArt).
This post was penned in 2019.
