Drama in the Dreamworld

The smoke was slowly billowing in the parlor of the three-story house. The fire was spreading at the slowest possible rate, yet the outcome was going to be no less devastating. I didn’t know who lived there. I didn’t know why I was standing outside observing the inevitable disaster.

I caught myself trying to walk away and avoid dealing with the drama. Some element of my consciousness told me no. I called whatever number it is you call, but that wasn’t enough to bring the cavalry. I just stood there helpless as the smoke grew thicker.

When I awake from dreams like this, I feel exhausted. A significant portion of my being has actually been experiencing this stressful situation. Is this a metaphor for some resonant truth I’m supposed to garner? Does the house represent some aspect of my life that I’m ignoring? Is my home life slowly smoldering despite efforts to quench it? Or is it more literal like a fear of the impending fire season, which is certainly prevalent in my waking mind.

One could assert that we are never more Tapped in to the Source than in the dream state. We are processing oft-esoteric wisdom from our subconscious and interpreting it in extremely profound ways. Then there’s a whole other layer which transcends simple explanation. How is it that we meet people we’ve never met before? Is this a composite construct from our memories? Or are we channels for alien intelligence, guiding our thoughts while the veil is thin?

Of course there are techniques to guide our dreams or remember them. Many times have I awoken, knowing that I just experienced something so deep, if I could only retain it, there might be some monumental impact on my life. I believe I could at least come away with the ultimate idea for the screenplay I’m supposed to write. It’s so close I can taste it.