The other night, I had this dream which consisted merely of me thinking that I was moving into a certain position to go to sleep over and over again. It was if my brain was repeating one dream sequence all night. An endless loop of sheer tedium.
This is weird for me because my dreams are usually about two things: flying a few metres off the ground or exploring a city. More often than not, they are one and the same.
For as long as I can remember, I have had the city dream. It consists of me wandering though a massive labyrinthine urban landscape until I wake up. It may sound very boring but I always enjoy them when I remember that I have had them. I have always loved walking around an urban landscape and these dreams play right into my hands. The city always looks familiar, with bit and pieces being taken from places I have been or seen in movies and TV. There are no landmarks although in recent years a river and railway stations have started to appear. The city is never populated except for the very rare occasion when it is, and even then it is never crowded. Whenever I do see another person, it is never good news. I wonder if this says anything about my mind?
The other trope of my unconscious mind is flying. I suppose this one is much easier identified. Dream experts say it refers back to when we were in the womb. I do tuck my legs up, embryolike, in these dreams, so it is a plausible explanation. But I’d hate for it to be merely womb wish fulfilment. It does beg a question though, why do I only fly a few metres above the ground? It isn’t as if I am frightened of heights. Hitting the ground and becoming a lumpy greasy stain, yes. Heights, no.
In truth, there is no point in trying to work out what a dream might or might not mean. Dreams are ultimately meaningless. They are the brain ticking over in the night, working through what you have seen and done during the day.
“I love humans. Always seeing patterns in things that aren’t there”
The Eighth Doctor, Doctor Who: the Movie