April 10, 2015- NoJo challenge

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I’ve missed a couple of days, here.  I may add two days to this project so that I end with thirty days.  We’ll see.

Lately, I’ve been having dreams of being lost, sometimes in places which I think are familiar.  I don’t remember any other particulars.  In the months prior, my dreams were populated with people I hadn’t seen, or even thought about in years.  I didn’t even remember some of those people by name.  Again, other details escape me.  Who is it that first said, “The devil is in the details”?

My first thought about the second dream was that people were coming to say goodbye.  It made me wonder if I wasn’t, in some esoteric fashion, being prepared for my death.  As I am still here, months later, that negative assumption seems invalid.

As for the circumstance of being lost, in my current dreams, I can only say that my dreams are just echoing my sense of being, in the waking world, for the whole of my life.  I’ve always felt lost, always lacked real comprehension of the world around me.  Life has always been a maze in which I’ve travelled without the benefit of a ball of string to follow.


Men have always thought dreams of import in their lives.  For many, they thought them a communication from the gods.  How many wars have been waged because a dream suggested they be?  How many times have life choices become to be, because of a dream?  How many religions have risen and fallen because a deity spoke to the dreamer personally?

This is not to say that all dreams have incurred negative happenstances.  The world is full of progression that started with one dream.


Thinking of the meaning of dreams in the modern age, we have Carl Jung, who developed a whole map and dictionary of how dreams work in the human psyche.  The difference, as far as I can make out, between the ancient idea of dreams, and Carl Jung’s idea is that, with Carl Jung, we are not talking to gods, but to ourselves.


My cold has run about ninety-nine percent of the course.  One would expect I would be feeling more up to par, but I’m not.  I can’t explain how I’m feeling under the weather, but I do.  Maybe it’s just depression.


I am not happy with this entry.  It offends my sense of style and intelligent content.  But that is true of all my improv entries.  I just don’t seem to have the strength, or the will, to make them better.


About elrondsilvermaul

I never know what to say about myself. I let what I write try to speak as to who I am. I can only add, here, that I am 72, live in a nursing home, am twenty years a cancer survivor, and identify as a gay male. I intend to use this blog as storage for poems? written over the long years (and still being written). This does not preclude other uses.
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