THE DREAMS THAT REMAIN
This morning I saw a writing prompt that asked about the link between dreams and memories. I certainly don't know the scientific answer to that, but it is clear that the two can be linked. Some dreams remain with us for many years, some have dream status placed upon them, because they lie in the strange zone of mystery, where dream, imagination and reality get so jumbled up they are impossible to disentangle.
That led me to recall two childhood dream memories. The first clearly a dream, a weird little movie clip that I woke with one morning, and has always lingered on the edge of consciousness. But the second... that's in that mystery zone I mentioned, where I am uncertain of its real status, and will never know.
I grew up, an only child with my parents, in a small mid-terrace 1950s villa. The dream I remember probably emerged when I was about eight. But it could have been anytime in the following four years I guess. The house had somehow become detached from its neighbours, and plonked on a beach on a tropical island. There were palm trees, waves and sand. We were under attack. From 'natives'. (UK school education in the 60s still carried a strong whiff of imperialism, so this word came as a generic term that wasn't then as questionable as it would be today.) We had barricaded the windows in my parents' bedroom, and were firing back at our attackers. The one detail that stands out is that the wallpaper was the original decor, red with white stars, that had been replaced some years before the dream took place.
That's it. I recall no more, if there was anything to recall. I have no idea about the possible psychological significance, or the factors that fed into creating this brief scenario. Although I did read a lot of "boy's own" type stories in books and comics, so that is likely source material. But why should that odd dream, of all those I must have had, still be with me six decades later? What was so powerful about that particular sequence, other than I think I awoke feeling frightened? The questions remain unanswered.
My second 'memory' is from my teenage years. In the same home as above. It's the wee small hours, say 4am. I've been lying awake. Get up, go to the bathroom, open the cabinet on the wall. Stare at the contents. I have not turned the light on, but there is sufficient illumination from the window to allow me to read the labels (oh for such young and perfect eyesight once more...). I place the jars containing tablets and medicines on to a flat surface. I stare at them for a long time. I contemplate taking them all. But then, eventually, after who-knows-how-long, I put them back. One by one, into the places whence they came. The cupboard door is closed, and I return to my bed.
Dream? Story? Reality? To this day I cannot answer that honestly, because I don't know if it 'happened' or not. It's a 'memory' for sure, but an unreliable one. And doesn't every teenager dream of their own death at some point, be it an accident or by intent? So did it 'happen' because it's a memory, or a dream, or a story, and that's all it needs it to be? Do you have these tales that could be any of the above? That are woven in to your life fabric and that's all you really need to know about them? Because who cares if this is 'real' or 'dream' or something even more nebulous? It's a part of me, of my history, a memory of a thing that may or may not have happened or been dreamt or imagined, and that no longer matters in any real sense.
We are our memories, our dreams, our past both real and imagined. The trick is to accept them all and let them be a part of who you are, the stock cube in your stew of life.
One final thought. We have friends coming to stay with us next week, and I have been thinking through what I might cook for them on their first night here. This morning, the morning when the dream-related prompt presented itself to me, I woke from a dream of cooking that meal. It was all there - shopping list, ingredients, method. And I typed that up when I came to my desk, not wanting to waste that valuable timesaver my subconscious had gifted me. Will it be any good? I'll let you know next week.
