Dreams

I have read it many times that writers put their dreams into words onto paper and even have a little note pad by their bed to write them down in between dreams.

I wonder about dreams. I do not give them special importance other than clearing the mind of worries, albeit in a creative way.

Some dreams are god-awful and some are floating beautiful.

What think you? Are dreams portents, or just the fliegree of the mind.

Messages from God or last nights potatoes and roast beef?

Do you awake and say, "Thank God I am awake!" Or do you close your eyes again and try to capture the dream for a while? Or both.

Love,
Betty

I dream every time I close my eyes to sleep. My dreams are crazy and make no sense. What I don't like is I want them to be sunny and bright but they are dim and shadowy. They indeed are stories, stories without endings, stories with no plot or distinguishing characters.

Sometimes they seem more than dreams. Like when my grandfather appeared in lightness and said how glad he was to be with me. He was dressed in a brown suit, white shirt and tie, his usual wardrobe outfit.

Once I began to laugh in a dream. My father came from heaven and told me not to take life as serious as he had, to laugh often. Then I started laughing and had a difficult time stopping before I woke up the whole household.

How can we make sense of such senseless things as dreams?

Carol

Dear Carol,
When I cannot sleep, I close my eyes and try to remember a beautiful dream in the details I first dreamed it. It is like walking down a long road and trying to remember every bush and flower. Somehow, the effort to remember the dream puts me to sleep.

I have not had any dreams where the departed have spoken to me or appeared. I do think for that to happen, the departed would have had to love you dearly, as you father did.

Who knows what the power of love really can do. Perhaps it is what lives on after our body is no more. Like kenetic energy, perhaps it is what really moves mountains.

Love,
Betty

Betty Fasig wrote:

I have read it many times that writers put their dreams into words onto paper and even have a little note pad by their bed to write them down in between dreams.

I wonder about dreams. I do not give them special importance other than clearing the mind of worries, albeit in a creative way.

Some dreams are god-awful and some are floating beautiful.

What think you? Are dreams portents, or just the fliegree of the mind.

Messages from God or last nights potatoes and roast beef?

Do you awake and say, "Thank God I am awake!" Or do you close your eyes again and try to capture the dream for a while? Or both.

Love,
Betty

All of the above?

Last night I dreamed I was being "courted" by Dominique Zamprognia. To the majority of those reading, (who wouldn't have a clue) he plays Dante Falconari on General Hospital - a supercop who recently learned that he was the "natural" son of mobster Michael "Sonny" Corinthos, Jr. (OK, my daughters got me hooked while they were still in HS and I can't give it up.)

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dante_Falconeri


But seriously, back during the eighties, I went through a period of writing down and associating a series of dreams that all involved circles and squares and strange symbols. Carl Jung called such dreams "mandala" dreams, and said they were signs of an individual who was "individuating," or coming to know the true self, or something like that. They came during the years my children were growing up and leaving home. It was just after that that I began writing in earnest. So, some dreams can be important, and about more than that roast beef we had for dinner.

(As for last night, maybe it was the Woodbridge Cabernet we had with?)

My worst nightmare? I am trying to teach a classroom of unruly students whom I cannot control. I wake up with sweats.

Dreams can be about a lot of different things, and can be frivolous or important. It seems, if they really newed to catch our attention, we have them, or versions of them, over and over until we pay attention.

Ann

Betty,

Once I had a dream about my brother, Bob, who died when I was 14 and he was 7. In my dream, he was 14, the same age I was when he died, and the same age my son David was when I had the dream. (It was one of the dreams I had during that period I mentioned earlier.) In my dream, my parents had divorced, and Bob never died, but left to live with our father while Bill (older bro) and I stayed with our mother. He told me that he was lonely and unhappy.

I have often wondered if the theory of parallel universes is real. Maybe this alternate life of me and my brothers was real at another dimension, and Bob somehow came to see me during that dream.

I don't think our traditional images are reality, but I do think there is more to our selves and lives than just this place.

Ann

Dear Ann,
Dreams get me out of myself. They take me places that I wish I remembered. I wonder about that part.
Wouldn't it be nice if these places we dream in all the color and detail are places we have been before?

Maybe they are a conglomerate, a kind of condensed soup of the life you have lived in other lives. They wash your mind in the night.

i hope that is true. I sounds so nice. It makes me look forward to dreams to see where I have been.

Love,
Betty

Dear Ann,
I have never experienced any connection to a parallel universe. I may be obtuse and not have known it if it hit me between the eyes.

I suppose that to have the connection one must have a person in the other universe that gives a shit enough to connect. Perhaps no one I ever knew felt the connection once they departed this one. Who knows. I would gladly say hello to anyone who wanted to pass my way, however.

Love,
Betty

5/19/2010

Dear Betty..

I had a poodle once, her name was Gi Gi, she
lived to be 10 , she had heart trouble. She passed
away in my apt. I was devistated , a few weeks later
I had a dream about her, she was happy and the feeling
I got from her was she was waiting for me, one day I
hope....

Love Joe

Betty Fasig wrote:

I suppose that to have the connection one must have a person in the other universe that gives a shit enough to connect. Perhaps no one I ever knew felt the connection once they departed this one.

LOL. Well, according to Sylvia Browne, it's really hard to connect from the Other Side, massive electrical interference or something. You have to be really talented or something.

Dear LC,
I have seen Sylvia on Montel Williams long ago, or maybe it was that show where people came on and told that they slept with their mother while their wife watched, or some such trash and then they all got up and cried and threw a fit for the camera.

I can tell you this, if it is possible for me to make visitations after I have departed, I will do so to everyone I ever met. You can expect me in color. What a lark it will be! La-la-ing around this world with no worries, no limitations, as free as a spirit can be. Zipping around like a hummingbird.

I wonder if one can make an agenda for the afterlife visitations. That would be swell. I could hook up with Dick, perhaps. We could solve mysteries together.

Love,
Betty

SO! There I was trying to order a vodka and grapefruit juice. No one wanted to pay attention to me at that bar.
At last, I ordered the drink. A woman came and gave me a bowl of furit ( raspberies, cherries, mandarin orange slices, and all covered with a raspberry liquor dressing) which I tried to say was not what I ordered, but all of a sudden the guy next to me was getting his order of roasted beef and noodles with lots of gravy. The waitress spilled it all on the ground, picked it up with a swoop and served it to him. He did not know it was on the ground, but I did. I was disgusted that he should be happy to be served such dirty food.

I did not have enough money to pay for my drink because they were so very expensive. There was four 100 dollar bills and a five dollar bill that some one had left on the counter. I put them in my pocket. I paid for my raspberry drink concoction with the five dollars and left happy that I had the four hundred in my pocket. I kept feeling it to make sure it was still there.

The dream went on forever.

I wonder how a mind thinks this stuff up in the sleep mode. I was in Las Vegas.

Love,
Betty

So, Betty, was the $400 still in your pocket when you woke up?

Ann

Dear Ann,
I had a better chance of finding the raspberry salad or that guys roast beef and noodles.

Love,
Betty

Dear JoElle,
I think that each dream is unique and a whole event unto it's self. I have dreamed that I was climbing a ladder that was at least a mile high. Many other ladders were there, too. The top of the ladder was a red cliff that looked down upon the many ladders on wall of the cliff. When I think about that dream, I feel each rung of that long ladder, the sun, the dust, the red of the rock, the breathing of the other ladder people and the fear.

Perhaps we are all a little insane and these dreams sort out the sane.

Love,
Betty

Carol,

I think your meds are affecting your dreams. Too bad they can't bring better ones.

My dreaming resembles Betty. They are pleasant and sometimes I wish they would continue. They are generally quite realistic and sensible like watching a movie, and I like movies. They include people I know and love and some I don't know or love. Just about every aspect of living happens in my dreams over time.

I only have two horrid dreams. I don't know what triggers them, but they are terrifying. They are disaster dreams where nothing can be done: tornadoes, hurricanes and one nuclear one that was the worst. Usually my mother is in these dreams and I am trying to help her feel safe when everything around is chaos and helplessness with death imminent. Sometimes, I can wake myself up and stop them. Fortunately, they don't occur but yearly or less.

I read "Conversations with God" in which the writer wrote as though he was conversing with God and getting his questions answered. He asked about dreams. God told him that the soul doesn't need to sleep. Therefore, when we rest, the soul wanders through time and space picking up information that is brought back and sometimes gets mixed in our dreams. Sometimes, the info is helpful; so, we should record our dreams.

Dear DK,

What a nice conception of dreams! It may very well be true. I have wondered about these things. How the sleeping mind can see things that your waking mind never did see. Is the mind that imaginative to create elaborate vision from some casual, subliminal image the brain sees?

I wrote one time before about seeing in my dream the elaborate wooden doors carved with such intricate and detailed designs.

Perhaps that is where the artist draws the inspiration.

The inner eye has to see, first.

I am thinking of our Shelagh's pen and ink drawing of the lovely lady with her elaborately festooned gown.

I wish the Dickens would come back long enough to zap me with some of his talent. hahha

Love,
Betty