Last night my dream set new standards for weirdness, or at least for weird thoroughness. An attractive dark-haired woman walked up to me and said that she was starting a band and had advertised for members. She showed me what looked to be a glossy magazine, saying that the person who replied was pictured there. It was a pictorial with a lot of snow. (Lately I've been dreaming about snow a lot. I really doubt that I'm cold at night in this weather. Maybe elevating my head on the slant pillow makes it cold. Dunno.)
Regardless (note to self: stop saying "regardless" and "anyway"), he had black hair done in a Flock of Seagulls cut. His hair was the same length as hers but she didn't like my mentioning this. I thought that the book/magazine must have been something he had paid for himself, and noted that it would be useful to have somebody that rich in a band. I closed the book/magazine; the cover said "Vogue: Music" (making it a magazine by this portion of the dream). She said there was no such magazine as "Vogue: Music." And that was about it, really.
I appreciate that it isn't a very interesting dream; I'm not sure even Dr. Freud could have gotten all that much out of it. (Well, only Dr. Freud could.) It's just weird to have a dream that thorough, especially as I'm listening to sports talk radio all night. I could see dreaming in depth about the pennant races or college football. But a vivid dream about a completely fictitious person in a very peculiar situation. Odd.
I recommend listening to classical music at a comfortably low volume level while sleeping. Loud enough to hear, not loud enough to be a foreground noise that demands close attention. To me, sports talk is the endless rattling of empty minds, and I'm already busy with the little voices in my head...
ReplyDeleteI prefer jazz. That way I dream about my misspent youth.
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