Sueños

The Spanish word sueño can mean both sleep and dreams depending on how it is used. In English we separate the two from each other, so I wanted to play on the idea that dreams are perhaps a separate world that can influence events in waking life. Sort of like a butterfly effect or chaos theory for dreams. I would love comments on this idea and any related concepts.

This is a story that I just quickly wrote (and is obviously nowhere near finished as this is a first draft of just an idea) while trying to expand on this philosophy about the relationship between sleep and dreams:

I looked at the clock as soon as I woke up. It was exactly six thirty-seven in the morning. I got out of bed, went to the bathroom and grabbed the washcloth off its hook. I turned on the hot water and put the washcloth under flow of the water until it was steaming and almost too hot to hold. I lathered my face with a cleansing cream, then rinsed it off with the steaming washcloth. It was then that I looked up at my reflection in the mirror only to discover that I had wrinkles on my face that were not there the day before, and almost half of the hairs on my head were grey. The night before when I went to bed, those hairs were most certainly not grey; they had been their original dark brown – the colour of roasted coffee beans.

It was then that I realized my dreams during my sleep that night had all been epic journeys. They crossed a span of my entire life, and the lives of my ancestors before that; explaining the events leading up to my birth which set in motion the circumstances of my life. If I had to read these dreams in a book rather than experience them in one night it would have been a book thicker than an encyclopedia of all things and its weight would crush me to death as I read it.

Could it be that long dreams actually last longer than the amount of time which exists in the sleep that contains them? I think my dreams overflowed the container of my sleep that night. My sleep was less than a mere seven hours, but it seems as though I had aged many years in that time. Not as many years as the dream took place over – thank goodness – else I would have died before I even finished dreaming that dream… probably within the first 2 minutes of my sleep.

How dangerous dreams can be, if this is the case. Another dream like last night’s and I will wake up with arthritis in my bones, skin that hangs off me like an over-sized blanket, and a memory that won’t tell me what it is I need to know.

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One comment

  1. I really enjoyed this post Ashley! My nights are also a never-ending epic journey of places, people and even time! Sometimes I feel exhausted from my dreams which are always filled with so much drama and excitment, I feel like I live a double life. One in the day (quite bland and uninteresting) and then at night I wake up on the other side of my mind. One morning I am sure I will awake covered in all traces of my dreaming world. Such an odd world. x

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