A fun, relaxing, fruitful holiday weekend; good food, long walks, watched Peter Jackson's 3 part totally FAB doc on The Beatles, had a productive songwriting session, and recorded demos of three brand-new songs.
You'd think I would have slept like a baby last night. Maybe so, but this baby had vivid dreams of failure, and upset. Fired again from a job I once got fired from many years ago. Re-lived the defeat, the shame, the stupidity, the anger, the fast and furious nature of the human quandary. Spending dream-time with my enemies, and my Nemesis. Yikes. Why did I find myself there?
I have no idea. I woke up this morning and briefly thought I had to scramble to find new employment, then, with one breath, I realized "It's just a dream." I am still in Kansas.
Before sleep took me, I was reading a book, a famous book, one that I won't name. It's a good book, well-intentioned, nicely written, based on a true story, but I put it down and realized I won't finish it. I suppose that seems like a bit of a failure on my part.
Why won't I finish it? It's a hard story. Maybe it turns out well, but right now it goes like this page by page: Human Atrocity, Human Atrocity, Human Atrocity, Etc. I am sure there is an uplighting payoff, but I just don't have the heart and the mind to get there. The atrocities pile-up and I just can't do it.
So I put the book down and vow to never open it again. Maybe that's a little failure that provoked the dream? I don't know. Maybe the Beatles saga made me think of success and failure, and the passing of time, and hope and dreams and nightmares and crushing blows? I don't know. I don't know the workings of my own mind.
Maybe the dream was a helpful tool? Washing my mind, opening me up? This morning, I am a little fuzzy-headed, but it's a new day. Who knows what's up with today? Maybe something will turn up?
