Dream Anatomy

Whale bone on beach.  (not my photo)

I dream.  I dream constantly, deeply, sometimes (well, truthfully, often) when I am awake. I know the territory of my dreams well- when I am very stressed/anxious (hurt animals, apocalypse), when I am nervous about something I have been avoiding, but want to do (the huge house with mysterious rooms full of objects- arouses curiosity but is haunted by something old and not-so-nice), when I am angry (arguments, car crashes, fire and burning trees in particular). Or out of control (wild, wild students and a blended Pender/Trask school setting).  These are all (thankfully) rare, they are disturbing but a key that something major needs tending to, and are thus of value.

My most common dream is the connecting dream, the communication type dream- this is most nights, during naps, and they are, for the most part, pleasant. (Unless I am feeling guilty about something, or have done something that would not be approved of)  These dreams star family members, friends, sometimes students, rarely celebrities. Mostly they are of Mother and Daddy, and involve just daily life- going out to eat, conversations in front of the tv or at the dinner table, the occasional car ride.  There are family dinners, visits from and to relatives, husbands, ex-husbands, Grendel, my sisters, all of the old people, endless parades of students (sometimes good, sometimes rowdy), Mr. Owens, Melissa, our pets (past and present- sometimes I dream of pets that other folks have probably long forgotten- Aunt Gladys's Chumley dog, or Candy, the ball chasing dog at Uncle Mike's and Aunt Anns.  Or Blackjack, the first horse I ever rode).  Most of these dreams are full of sensory delights- I can feel the wind, or the sun on the saddle, smell the air or perfume (sometimes perfume I am not fond of, like Emeraude), hear conversations, music, noises- and almost all of these dreams include food of some sort. They are a comforting connection, even though sometimes there is arguments, or scolding- but most often stories and small adventures.

Then there are the sea dreams.  These are the dreams that seem to shine in parts.  The story begins with a set up- for some reason I have to travel back to the ocean, and most often that is the one in California- around Morro Bay but up through Cambria and San Simeon as well, down to Los Osos and Hazard Canyon.  (There are other scenes- the bridge across to Pensacola beaches that I went to once, the waterfront at Southport, my beloved Oak Island or unknown stretches of sand). The set up is always important, and involves a journey, money, time and finding employment/place to stay.  There are maps, and travel, and mountains and then wandering around Morro Bay/ the Embarcadero trying to find the place to stay- I pass by the stores (some are the same, some different) and the boats- but I do not go in.  Usually I am with someone and and I am telling them about the area, how it is different from what it used to be, what I remember.  There is the store that had the seal that we loved to feed, the Shell Shop that I worked in, the Fish Bowl where I belly danced and whose take-out had great fish and chips, the place where Dad and I would get clam chowder and frozen chocolate covered bananas.  The brewery where I learned about coffee, and the annexed companion stores where I sold candy and polished brass.  The Rathskeller that had the best French-Dip sandwiches ever.  The sand on the side walk, the boats at the wharves (not pleasure boats but working boats that smelled of fish and diesel), the bright Tiger's Folly ready to take tourists on a harbor cruise.  Stores that Mother and I would wander around, then go get fish and chips to take down to the rock and eat in the car while looking at the sea.  I never tired of the Embarcadero, and I still don't-  

Once there though, there is the sea part of the dream.  A bad sea dream is that I get there, get settled, and then it is time to return home and I have yet to see the sea itself.  I am panicy and missing it- but it is time to go.  The medium sea dream is that I am there and in proximity to the sea- at the beach, along the shore, but doing something else... I am wanting to go explore, but first I have to complete a task.  Sometimes I get to explore, sometimes I do not- but just being there is important.  The best dreams are the finding dreams.  The dreams where I get to roam the beaches, rocks, tidepools and salt march (yes, march not marsh- different things.  The salt 'marsh' is where the reeds grow thick, the march is the part that is muddy and uncovered by tides).  When I roam I find things, amazing things.... 

I have drempt of the aftermath of storms and shipwrecks, where I find a mixture of sea wrack, objects, shells and antiques (last time I had this dream one of the things I found was a beautiful red-gold carnival glass pitcher- carnival but cut glass at the same time, heavy.  I brought it back to shore and everyone was amazed it wasn't broken...).   Usually it begins with finding some small shells, things local to the area, then uncovering some amazing high-quality shells- and I think, 'this is not native to this area, or I didn't know this lived here, or even I wonder who put this here?' but then I uncover more- they shine and are amazing.  I can see clearly how they set into the sand, how the froth from the surf surrounds them just a bit with white foam, how they glisten from the combination of sea water and sunlight.  Other people are around usually, sometimes they find things as well, sometimes they just don't care about them.  I am amazed that they do not see what I do, cannot appreciate the magic of the find.

Last night I dreamed of Oak Island, and returning to it.  Sue and Tom Podlucky were in the dream- along with MJ and Troy- but they were a bit older, around 9-10ish.  We were on the mainland, Charles was there, and I had just gotten out of the hospital from an operation.  Not a major one, but something small.  We were looking to move back to the island, looking for potential work, places to live.  I was supposed to go to the doctor and get the stitches removed, but decided that I had time to ride down to the end of the island 'just for a quick look'.  I was riding a bike, which is strange since I haven't a bike and don't particularly like to ride them.  But I crossed the bridge, then turned down the main road (which is Embarcaderoish for here- gas stations and beach stores, coffee shops etc.)  I went to a few stores just to look, and look for work- then I was down at the area where the stores turned into residential streets.  There was a fellow selling beach toys in a parking lot, and other things, he was dressed professionally though in khaki pants, blue oxford shirt and a tie.  We talked and then he left work to go down to the end of the island with me- we went along the coast road, and it was different from the real Oak Island.  It curved around a small park (I told him Barbie had gotten married there, and rode into the wedding on a fire truck of all things) then to an area at the end of the island where the really, really big expensive houses are.  There was one under construction that looked like a castle, I recognized it from an architectural magazine article- the turrets were sitting on the sand because they decided against them due to wind from hurricanes.  We discussed the potential value of the turrets  then I began looking along the sand at the shore.  There were piles of wrack- stones, broken shells, seaweed- and I began finding things in them.  Not shells this time, but bones (a first- I do collect bones as well as shells, including beach bones.  But I haven't found beach bones in a dream before).  These bones were small common bones.... then I picked up something odd to look at.  It was bone but also dried skin that was translucent white (like fish bones are)- but I could see the outline of the dentition and eye sockets   There was a feather still attached to the back of the head, and it was the size of a softball.  I decided that it was the skull of an Indian, mummified, shrunken and preserved by the action of sea, sand and sun.  I kept looking and in a bit discovered another skull- but this had the whole body attached.  It was shrunken and dried, the same pearly white, about the size of a small child or large doll.  I picked this up as well.  It was time to head back and so we did- I remembered about the Dr. Appointment and discovered that a) I missed it and b) I didn't really care.  I did care though that I would be home later than expected and that Charles would worry.  The man went back to work, I kept along the road pushing the bike and carrying navy blue drawstring bags with the bones in them.  I met Sue and the kids- they were at some scout activity thing- and we walked together for awhile.  I kept setting the bike aside to rest, then walking on forgetting it.... I would send Grendel (who magically appeared) back for it.  I kept tight hold of the bone bags though, and showed Sue what was in them.  (She was polite about it, but not all that impressed).  At the end of the island I saw the man again with his wife and daughter- they were coming from the fire station fish-fry.  He told me he got a new job and was moving to Flordia, and the old one was there if someone wanted it.  I turned to walk across the bridge and saw more bones by the dumpster, but these were the brown greasy bones left by recent roadkill, with a few shattered white ones thrown in.  Dog, deer, a flat cat.  I let them be and crossed back over the bridge, carrying my bags and pushing the golden bike.

And that was my adventure last night, and I feel good for telling it.  There was more- lots more- I left out various details about job interviews, African art, food, singing with little girls and telling someone that I wished I was 35 again.

Today I am writing but restless, I have work to do and the computer is slow, I want to go to the beach and walk on the sand- but it is very cold, the beach is far away and gas is expensive. I can wait... and search for bones in my dreams.