16 February 2007


This morning I woke up from a dream that seemed so deep and meaningful and emotionally resonant that I felt a gentle, calm sense of loss not to be able to return to it.  I can still remember a few elements of the dream, but they don't have any real resonance for me any more, as if I'm remembering remembering the dream: memories of memories.  The only reason I remember anything at all is that I thought about the dream so much when I woke up, but the specifics don't matter.  The sublime feelings from the dream have come back in echoes throughout the day, and the sense of calm has lasted.  I've felt like I'm thinking about the life of a lost loved one—it's a similar bittersweet poignancy.  Today, with this almost Zen-like contentment, it's been easier dealing with the mundane.  If only I could have more dreams like it . . .


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