Dream Diary – Beneath The Waking mind


If sleep is ‘little death’ are dreams then an afterlife?

Painting credit copyright Aditya Dogra.

I have not logged about the early morning dreams or premonitions in some time. Actually I wait till some voice within me tells it is time to write. Things keep happening between the realms of wakefulness and sleep and in between too. Yes, i think there is a state in between and perhaps it has a name too but I am not aware. Even when we are asleep there is this inner wakefulness that guides the dreams as we know them. Sometimes I feel I conjure up some situation or thing to work upon while sleeping and that becomes the dreamscape but on most nights the events are unexplained and not really connected with the day’s events. There is always something deeper and more authentic than the  waking reality.

I do not know what prompts me to write down my dreams and I do not know what they mean but it feels good to be intrigued by these riddling images of my mind. Here I will share three recent ones.

First the most recent and the shortest.

I am in a cave, exploring perhaps, when i find something glistening in one of the ledges cutting through the wall on my left. Something is breathing there. There is only natural light but enough to see what needs to be seen. As I focus my eyes I realize it is a creature , a mix of a serpent or a snake  and a huge lizard ( iguana/ monitor lizard are first thoughts). It’s body is glistening blue green. The color of peacocks neck. The colors shimmer as they would in sunlight. It’s head too is a strange mix of both the creatures I mentioned but more like a snake’s. As i stand there in awe it slowly rises as if waking from a sleep. Our eyes meet. There is a gentleness in those eyes. I do not remember what color they were. All I can remember is the feeling of warmth  they radiated. The creatures slides to the ground and as it does I notice its torso and legs. They are like human body. The lower part below waist is human like. It has the same flesh color. It stands there gazing as I gaze at it and in that moment we lose track of time and space and everything else. 

I didn’t wake up immediately as I mostly do nor did the dream continue. It just ended there.

At another time  the dream was more in conscious state of mind I believe as I was very much aware of the sounds around the house. I am anyway a very light sleeper though my children claim I sometimes sleep soundly when I say I  had been awake the whole night. Strange that it may seem.

 

Talking about children, my boys are often part of my dreams directly or indirectly.  Many time I get this sudden thought/ a flash of an image like a premonition and most of the time it comes rue in one form or the other with the person whose name/face flashes in my mind. It has happened too often in last few months though again it could be just a coincident. These thoughts don’t always come to me as dreams.

Usually it is connected to something uneventful, a mishap in most cases.

In a few cases the mishap occurred without me being aware  and when I shared my dream/ thought I came to know what had happened. It has happened with friends/family in close circle.

Before I go on to the longish dream to end this post let me give an example.

Few days ago my elder son had come to spend the weekend with me. Early Sunday morning  at about 3 AM I had a dream that my brother was waking me up telling me to come see how much blood was pooled up near my elder son’s hip area as he slept on his left side facing the wall. i rush and try to wake the boy asking him where is he bleeding from. The chap gets up and yells at us for spoiling his precious sleep as he isn’t bleeding at all. I stare at the blood pool wondering where it was coming from while the boy dozes off again. 

I woke up with a start and went straight to the room where he was sleeping peacefully. I sat there for a few minutes and then went to brush my teeth and make tea etc. In an hour or so my phone rang and it was the younger son. Worried and weeping he asked for his brother. My heart sank thinking of some mishap that may have happened with him. I quickly work Kid 1 again and gave the phone. I could make out something was very wrong as he consoled his younger brother, jumped out of bed, changed, booked the cab to rush back home. While doing that he explained that their little kitten fell from the second floor and was attacked by dogs. She was in critical state and bleeding from mouth and rectum.

I did not share my dream with anyone except one person. It isn’t the first time this has happened and it scares me. In recent months there have been many short dreams/ flashing related to blood / death/ mishaps and invariably a news has followed. In an already skewed up world in which I exist this isn’t a good sign IMO. A thing that last maybe 30 seconds while also never ending in my mind.

How the consciousness speaks in these ambiguous forms of  oneiric tales freak me out at times. Dreams can be bizarre. A surreal continuum of lostness like this next one.

it is dark and me and the boys are travelling on a bullock cart ( I think they are bullocks) through some slush. The ground is rough and uneven. It is also cold, at least for me, as I have a hooded cape wrapped around me. The boys are bare chested.

I do not know where we are and where we are headed. The horizon isn’t visible. It is just a journey into deeper dark. There a big iron truck with us though I keep thinking of it as suitcase and call it a suitcase.

“How long will it take?” I ask.
“No idea but we need to keep going. It may rain too. The entire area is flooded.” Says the elder son.

” Keep the suitcase covered.” says the younger one. ” we can’t take risks. I’m fed up of this unending journey.”

“Stay quiet.” I whisper.

I can see the tree line of some forested area far at the horizon.  it begins to drizzle.

“Who thought of taking this fabulous vehicle for such an important ride?” Kid2 tries to make the animals move faster. They groan.

“Be prepared for anything and look out for some repair shop. We need to get the suitcase repaired. We can also sell it and buy a stronger lighter one if possible.” Kid 1 says.

“I can see a lantern. Be ready.” I say gripping a baton while the boys grip on some weapon of defense they have.

Slowly, like a shadow we move closer to the lone yellow flickering light. It looks like one of those puncture repair shops one sees along the highways. There is an old shack too. I spot boxes there. We do not spot anyone. Cautiously we step down and look for the owner.

“What do you want?” A voice startles us. A man had appeared from behind the ragged curtains acting like curtains at the door. He looks a million years old.

“We need to exchange our old suitcase with a lighter box. You can keep ours. No money.” I say, eyeing the boys to remain alert.

“Select the one you want. Be quick. The rapids will rise any minute.”

The boys rush to the cart as the animals begin to whimper.sensing an impending danger.

In a minute I join them and we set off. After a while I look back to find the place drentched in dark.

“We were lucky to get away.” I mumble.

” Is everything safe.” Kid 2 asks.

I gasp realizing that the box is missing. The boys pull the reins and glare at me. ” You left the box there only. You idiot.” Kid 1 is fuming with anger.

“I just don’t know how that could have happened. I transferred the contents, locked and picked up the …” I stare at an empty worn out old suitcase thrown in a corner of the cart.

” You picked up the old one.. How could you? You lost all we had. Our everything. Our lives. ” We were rooted to the ground in the middle of a large dark flooded plain. My elder one’s angry figure looming large over me.

I  hear my younger one mumbling in fear. ” We are done. We won’t survive. I told you it was a bad idea to cross over like this. What will we do… mumble..mumble.. “

 The water ahead of us is gleaming in some invisible light and the animals pull the cart as quickly as they can through the slush pulling them in. 

The forest line is clearly visible but still far. There are stumps of burnt trees around us. The cart suddenly stops and we freeze. Something isn’t right. My elder son gets up and picks up a spear. 

“I have to leave. You need to travel on your own from here.Go north then west. Goodbye for now.” With that he soundlessly jumps out of the cart and in a flash vanishes into the dark. We just see a flash of the spear tip gleaming and then vanishing. 

We look at each other and then ahead. We have fallen through time. The tree line has disappeared. and instead far away the horizon is visible like a red thread encircling the landscape. We turn north. First the bullocks dissolve then the first half of the cart with Kid2 and then me. ll that remains is the darkness. 

 

I slowly opened my eyes and glanced around the room which seemed darker than usual. Usually one can hear the low snoring sounds of my brother in next room but that night was quieter than ever.

For a long time all I could think of was my elder boy. I did narrate the dream to him some time in the next few days and maybe there was some part that I may have forgotten to write here. A conversation perhaps when he leaves but I do not want to invent anything now. It’s been a few months.

2016 brought a lot of upheaval but then the chaos is necessary to give birth to something. When it comes to my life I do not know which plane I am on as I plunge into one to emerge on another, day in and day out.

Something is about to change in the coming months. I do not know if that is a good sign or bad but I am going with my gut feeling and going with it.

Something needs to be written about. Urgently and Soon.

Something needs to be brought to a closure.

Universe is showing some signs. Hope it guides me in the right direction.

PEACE – BE.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The hounds are back – Dream Diary


I thought I had done away with them. The hounds had stopped frequenting my dreams after I logged in my last  dream about them in September. Not that I am perturbed by them or the other things associated with these recurring lucid images but they do leave me drained out. There certainly is a connection somewhere, maybe a past life connection. In any other situation I would have let it pass but now I want to crack the mystery. What is taking me back to old havilies, graveyards and what are these magnificent hounds doing in my dreams. Are these dreams ” a knot of concerns in my conscience. unchanging ones, unconfronted ones, ones I continue to live with every day and that the unconscious thinks about by itself, trying to alert me, control me, warn me, get me to release it from its worries.” as a friend thinks or  is there a deeper play?

Usually these are morning dreams. Mostly after 2 O’clock. so vivid that I feel I can touch and feel and smell whatever surrounds me at that moment.

This is how it all began

I am in some upmarket house overlooking a deep blue ocean. The beach has white sand. Calm and serene with million shades of green. I am in a plush room with french windows with sheer curtains pulled to the sides. There are a few more people in the room, people I don’t know from real life but they seem like a family in the dream. The only person I know from real-time is my brother, a handsome man in early fifties (he doesn’t resemble how my brother looks now but how he would have looked if he had maintained himself) He is wearing an Indian Maroon polo neck Tee with black pants. The other guy in the room, much younger, is wearing a similar outfit. Dressed in a formal off white skirt and shirt I am looking out through the window. Interestingly my hair is long and tied in a bun resting at the nape of the neck.

There is  a corpse of an old man on the beach. Naked. The waves are coming up to it but never quite touching. I watch it for sometime and then the scene shifts to a room above this one. My elder son is sitting there on a large armchair. Handsome man in his thirties.  Dressed in the same maroon polo neck and black pant. Intense and good-looking. He is flipping a coin between his thumb and finger. I ask him why he did he do it and when is he going to stop it. Some conversation as a mother which I can’t remember completely but it is formal. He pays no attention but keeps his eyes fixed on me and then the phone rings. I put the speaker on. A close friend(male) from real time is on the line. He gets mad at me about what my son is doing and blames me for leaving  the job and starting a cult. Warning me that it will destroy everything. It seems my lad has been writing rebellious stuff and offensive things about his grandfather etc on social networking sites his blog etc.

We listens to the conversation quietly then I tell this friend not to get involved in this and that I approve of  my boy’s activities and with that slam the phone.

I tell Adi that the situation is grave and he should stay put where he is.

Then I come down to the living room where we began.  I see that a large long cushion is thrown on an armchair similar to the one above. Four hounds, their coats gleaming, appear all of a sudden and I say, “Who let these beasts out?”  and then I notice what they are doing. One of them pins down the pillow to the back of the chair , the other two are on either side pulling something over it which seems like a sheet of water. One of them is just keeping a watch looking in our direction.

“What the hell are they doing?” I say as water begins to seep into the plush red carpet.

The man who looks like my brother has the same intense look as my son. He is flipping a pencil just like Adi was flipping the coin. He is silently watching the chaos and then he speaks in a gravelly voice.

“They are doing what they are trained to do. They are Adi’s beasts.” with that he gets up and so do the others. There is a complete silence.

Now I see my mother, dressed again in formal western outfit (something floral, a skirt or a dress) sitting on a rocking chair. Her palm covering her face.  Maybe going through some emotional roller coaster of  her own. She is older than she is now.

I tell the people in the room to leave and not to breathe a word to anyone.

They step out and so does the man who looks like my brother.  Our gaze locks in a  moment of understanding and am back in the room above. Adi is at the window looking out. I join him.

The police are cordoning off the area and have put the corpse in a body bag.

We stand there in silence. The dogs at our heals.

*********

When I woke up the house was in darkness so I felt a bit disoriented. I stepped out wondering whether it was morning or evening. Then I saw mom reading in her room and the doorbell announced the arrival of the cook. It was around 7:30 PM. I must have slept for about four and a half hours. Wonder if I was really asleep or awake or just not in this world.

Unlike previous dreams there was no blood on me or maybe there was some on our hands – Adi and mine.  Blood that had tainted our lives.

Dreams and Dark Imaginings – Dream Diary


Hippocrates had a dream theory that the mind received images during daytime and produced images during night-time.

Phantasmagoric is how I would describe my dreams. Usually I do not take naps during daytime but a few days back sheer mental, emotional and physical fatigue made me crash while my laptop and cell buzzed ceaselessly. I was in a sort of hypnotic trance and yet fully aware of the sounds that filtered through the closed-door of my room. The afternoon sun shone brightly and filled my little room with brilliant sunshine and warmth slowly sucking me into a gateway of a private fantasy land. Unlike the known realms of fantasy this one did not have any magical stuff . Somehow I feel that many of my lucid dreams are sequential and  bizarre. It seems I am shape shifting into some another being or sometimes I see myself with people who are either part of my present life or past at places known and unknown though I may have known them at some other time.  The scary twist comes to a normal lucid dream when your subconscious mind takes control and the dream feels like reality. You can actually feel, touch ,smell what surrounds you.  The senses are sharper than normal and visual impact is much more than what it may be in wakeful state. The thin line that separates wakeful state and sleep diminishes and dissolves.

On this day I was taken to an old house. These are the kind of houses you find in old cities. Houses with many big and small rooms, a veranda, a store-room in an old style kitchen, steep staircase leading to terrace. Heavy doors  and windows which bring in more darkness than light.  Old style flat wooden beds, iron trunks and wooden furniture that makes the atmosphere slightly daunting. There is always  fragrance of age, a murky presence of cobwebs and cold feel of stone under your feet if you walk bare feet.

I was in a big room where on a large wooden bed my mother sat but she didn’t look like her. Her physique resembled that of  my paternal grandmother whom none of us have seen except in a few yellowing photographs. She wore a soft cotton sari of some pastel shade. Her hair silver streaked with black tied in a loose bun resting at the nape of her neck.

There is a small girl whom I call with my niece’s name but she looks nothing like her. A thin wispy creäture dressed in a frock and leggings.  I bring her in and tell the two domestic helps to stay in the outside veranda. These girls work for us here now in real-time. So here is some present merging with past.

The room has another door at the other end leading to a row of dingy , vacant rooms smaller in size. I take the little girl to one of the bigger and airy rooms to wash her dirty face and change her clothes,

She is unusually quiet and obedient.  Not her usual self at all.

The scene shifts from these dark interiors to one of the flats I lived in as a teenager. It shifts to my room with again two doors , one leading to the balcony and another to the lobby. The setting is almost the same as it used to be in my time but there is an overpowering presence of an old wooden wardrobe. Heavy dark wood.  stuffed with clothes and things with bundles of more clothes and saris and sheets on top. I tell mom to clean her and put fresh clothes which she does. here her real image is clearly visible.

I may be in early thirties not younger for sure.

The scene sifts back to the old room where I put her on the wooden bed with a glass of milk. A modern glass with lid and nozzle, on of those insulated ones.

I go into the bathroom among one of the rooms in the row and come out to find a drunken , disheveled man shouting his lungs out to take his daughter back. I manage to push him out but can’t find the girl.

I call for the house helps but no one is there in the murky summer afternoon pregnant with various smells rising from inside and outside of the house.

I run around in panic constantly yelling for the helpers and the child.  I find her sprawled on the floor face down at the bottom of the staircase and in the twilight filtering in from door I see the pool of blood near her head. The house help comes running down the stairs and swears to know nothing about her fall or injury. I turn her carefully . She is unconscious and cold as ice but her heart is beating. I rush inside to pick up my purse and car keys ( By the way I don’t drive) and by the time I return everyone has disappeared. There is a dark pool of red seeping slowly in the crevices of stone flooring . The door is open and swinging slowly with evening breeze. I run around in the by lane but there is no sign of  life not even the usual street dogs.

I find the younger house help who tells me that a couple has taken the child to their house in the next lane. (These people are neighbors from where I lived two years back). I rush with her to their home crossing series of old dilapidated buildings. We reach a deep blue wooden door with a huge chain lock on it. I open the lock and step into another dark corridor and set of rooms. On my right is room with curtain drawn. I can hear hushed voices inside and a dim light is visible if you look carefully through the coarse material of the curtain. The gentleman comes out and tells me that the child is still unconscious but the bleeding has stopped. Nothing else can be done for now. I argue that we should take her to the hospital and he looks at me in surprise.

” Which world are you living in girl? There is a curfew in the town since last four days. I am surprised you even managed to get here and did not get shot. The town is shut.” I just stare at him wondering  how long have I been cooped up inside the four walls of that formidable house.

As we talk we walk into an open courtyard.  His fingers find a switch on the dark side wall and the naked yellow bulb springs to life. He turns to face me and his eyes freeze with alarm and concern.

‘What happened to you? You are bleeding.”

“What? Where?” My hand automatically reaches to the side of my left temple. I feel the sticky liquid run down my fingers.  There is no pain, no sign or remembrance of an injury.

I woke up with the feel of blood still on my hand. I realized that my hand was still at the temple and it that semi awakened state I saw the deep dark liquid on my hand, that unmistakable irony smell of blood filled my nostrils. I could feel its sticky texture and how it slowly made its way down to the elbow and down to the floor as I looked at it  with astonishment. By this time I was actually awake. The  laptop battery had died and the blank screen stared at me from the side of my bed. The sun had gone down and the room was in darkness except for the tube light  peeping from under the closed-door. I got up and switched the light on. My legs a little shaky and a definite ache in the neck muscles especially to the left.  I realized I was sleeping in one awkward position for more than three hours.

Slowly the sounds had faded and the house had become silent with my mother bent over her book somewhere. I went into her room and into the bathroom. Switching on the light above the mirror I looked closely for any marks on the side of temple but found none. While washing my hands with liquid soap the same feeling of feeling blood between my fingers returned  and for a second I actually felt it was blood but it wasn’t.

It is intriguing how I am able to actually feel the wetness of blood and know the right thickness and color of it. It is also intriguing how this is repeated in dream like sequence. This is the second time  I bled in my dreams and surprisingly it never scares or upsets me. Read DEATH RED here.