My dreams are usually pretty vivid. For a long time, I kept a dream journal. But I just lost the discipline after awhile. (And some of my entries were so illegible, I couldn’t even make out what happened.) I don’t write down my dreams nearly as often as I used to–but every once in a while, something passes through my head (or my head passes through something) in the wee hours of the night that I just have to record–even if I don’t know why.
Last night, I had a dream involving teaching and cartography, art and family. At a certain point I picked up a newspaper. There was a poem and in the dream, I just loved it. It seemed juicy and refreshing. Reading text in dreams is for some reason typically pretty difficult. But I could read this easily. When I woke up, I scrawled the small part I remembered in my journal. Here it is:
Past Present Future (Tents)
Christed Christing Goats
I kinda get a kick out of the fact that my mind made a pun while I was sleeping. In the dream, the poem seemed so very relevant. I sure wish I could remember the second part of the poem.