I Had a Dream

I've been dreaming a lot recently. Crazy, mixed up dreams where nothing seems to make sense and if you get distracted for one moment, when you turn back to something, it isn't what it was before. I've never been one for writing down dreams, but this morning I had an appointment with someone who knows a bit about dreams, so we talked about it, and even in the retelling, I came to some realisations. I was told to try always to write them down. Some of it is still vague, but it went something a bit like this...

I was in an amateur biatholon or something like that - nothing too strenuous - and I couldn't tell you who else was in it, but they were all familiar to me and we were chatting as we were finishing the walk/run, going past some buildings from the last school I taught at as we approached the water. That school is nowhere near water. I am a passable swimmer, but not a strong one, however I went into the water for the final leg with a calm confidence, if no real drive. Rather than having to push myself, I just did it. I have no memory of any real finish, other than that it was out in the water and we had then to swim back to shore.

As I was lazing my way back in on my back, a man I knew - though I have no idea who it was - was complimenting me on my swim leg and the calm strength with which I'd approached it. He asked me what was different to other swims and I'd said that I wasn't really trying, I'd just been determined to live in the moment and focus on each stroke, my breathing and so on.

When we all left the water, people went to get changed whilst many others, who hadn't been participating, settled to a buffet dinner in two school rooms made into one with the retraction of a concertina door. Some were people I knew but there were many others I didn't. There was a buzz of conversation reminiscent from progressive dinners I attended as a child in the 70s. Unlike the other participants, I wrapped myself in a towel and made my way through this impromptu dining room to let myself into a storeroom at the end where I had my belongings. I received friendly jibes about my inappropriate attire for dinner as I walked through, all of which I replied to wittily.

As I was gathering my things, I needed to blow my nose and then needed somewhere to put the used tissue, so I put it under the switch of a light. Pinned by the switch. This is nothing I've ever done (is it even possible?) yet as soon as I did I realised it was a common sight in my dream and almost a mark of ownership. This is my space. I control the lights. Some other woman - an older version of me? - came into the room to do something and I felt a little intruded upon but went about my business and I think she went back to the meal outside.

Soon this storage space had suddenly turned into a walled garden. It was lit with shadows and had several garden beds, paths, trees and a compost bin constructed out of recycled timber. The whole space was not well kept but was alive. Functioning. I went to put something in the compost heap and discovered there the carcas of a sheep. It was somewhat decomposed, with insects and birds having removed the flesh from much of its face and other parts of its body. I needed to move part of it to fit into the compost whatever it was I had and received a shock to see the sheep flinch - that the sheep was not dead at all, but in a dire condition.

As a result of my inadvertant stimulation, the sheep suddenly shook itself and heaved itself out of the compost. It moved away from the bin to find two other small but full-grown sheep, in perfect condition, together in the garden. It tried to 'talk' to them, but they wouldn't tolerate it, rejected it, and it stood in dejection. The sheep required euthanasing, it was obvious to me, but I couldn't find any means to put it out of its misery, so I re-entered the dining room to find someone to assist me.

Having secured myself an assistant, I drew them back to the walled garden only to find that the door now suddenly led to an overcrowded bus on a hot day - replete with animals. I searched amongst the passengers and found the two healthy sheep stuffed under seats. I approached the rear of the bus, fearful that the injured sheep would be gone and that I would not be able to do anything about its suffering. Under the second back seat, I found my female dog, who looked a bit guilty (sheepish? Ha!) at being discovered. What was she doing there? Then, from under the back seat of the bus I dragged out the sick sheep, only to find that its nectrotised face was in fact only marred by a couple of sores. The assistant I'd brought with me to put the animal out of its misery exclaimed that this was not an animal in need of being killed and then I woke up.

Bizarre. Huh? Apparently, everything we dream is a part of ourselves. The different parts of the dream represent different parts of our self.

What the hell does this say about me? I have some ideas, but they are perhaps not for sharing here.

What do you think?