Having just woken from an eleven hour slumber in which I dreamt that Paris Hilton and her posse were escorting me and random friends on a coastal tour of some lush South American country during which time I was wanting so desparately to relax and enjoy my time but so stressed that both zume and my camera were not with me, I called off the trip dragging my friends home only to realise that they were all high on crystal meth and what I really had been seeing was not infact an animal park in a remote part of Venezuela but images from my friends elaborate halucinations....
Dreams are often difficult to interpret. I remember Mum used to have a book that would make interpreting last nights dream so simple. It was some bizarre pagan text with a broad index of dream elements. I am sure if I used it to evaluate last nights dream it would warn me that one of my seven children would contract polio, I am fearing that my thatch roof is wearing thin in the cold and that the cobbler needs to take more care when mending my shoes.
For a long time I held onto the theory that this life was divided into two parts. Our awake life and our asleep life. I had no particular reason to believe in such a theory, had never read it in any book or heard it from another, it was just a simple explaination for such vivid and adventurous dreams. I am a huge fan of sleep and love to drift off to dreamy asleep life.
These days I give little time to the interpretation of my dreams, but a great deal of personal thought to what the meanings of such adventures are. I am more and more convinced that dreams are a reflection of the thoughts, feelings and input of waking life. Having had quite a wild awake time last night I thought back to what could have made me have the Paris/ South American / friends/ animal park dream....
In the dream there was a breath taking coast line...
(looking through the photos I took last night, a coastline also appeared in my awake life...on the wall of a Shibuya karaoke room)
The drug references...
On the way out last night I was reading Me talk pretty one day by David Sedaris. The chapter entitled 12 moments in the life of an artist - his hilarious grapple with drugs and art school
Paris Hilton and random friends ??
The adventurous nature of the dream...
Last nights awake time was also quite adventurous from what I remember. Just before calling it a night, I vaguely remember trying to instill some normality and logical thought into the minds of the intoxicated patrons on a serverely overcrowded dance floor by forcing a pint sized salary man to loosen up a little. Removing his jacket for him throwing it into the crowd, taking off his tie and wrapping it around his head. There are some simple do's and dont's in life - wearing a business suit and tie on a dangerously overrcrowded and overheated dancefloor in a Tokyo nightclub with a Dj playing dodgey harcore trance that the punters have devised a group chant and choreographed dance to is a BIG don't!
The South American element of the dream...
Quite obvious! I have been in a slight depressive fog...Carnival in Brazil has ended for another year, another year that I missed it. But this is no ordinary year, this is the last chance that I had to be doing the samba down the streets of Rio before I turn 30. Oh well there is still another 10 years before I am 40...
Also last night's dinner at Shibuya's Christon Cafe evoked some heavenly feelings.
