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capri0mniLately (like over the last year or so), I've been waking up about five hours after going to bed (when it's starting to get light out), shifting position, and drifting back to sleep. The dreams I have during this second sleep -- the "morining dreams" are especially vivid.
And yesterday morning, I dreamt of yellow.
It started with me fiddling with my cat litter box (I have those mechanical ones, with the automatic rake), trying to get it to work.
When I was done with that, I noticed a bunch of dried grasses and flowers, like my mother used to pick. I decided I should gather them and arrange them into a proper bouquet. As I did so, I noticed (and marveled) that the goldenrod flowers still looked fresh and yellow, even though they were dried.
Then, the scene changed again, and I was sitting in a living room with a bunch of people whom I knew in the dream, but not in real life (that is, they didn't, consciously, refer to people I know in my waking state, but I had the sense in the dream that I was at a gathering of friends I'd been invited to). Anyway, the hostess, a black woman, was telling the story of some of the photos on the wall -- mainly of her father, and how he fought racial discrimination. As she told the story, the photos came to life and acted out scenes, like the pictures on the wall at Hogwarts.
As she wrapped up her tale, I started talking about the discrimination I face -- how often, people don't even seem to see me, because of the wheelchair, and I described what happened when I last went for a haircut, and the hairdresser spoke to my father instead of me. The gathered people made sympathetic noises, but said I should be more forgiving...
As I hemmed and hawed, and tried to describe how oppressive it felt, and how oppressive it felt to have to use back doors and service entrances, because architects and engineers don't want to put ramps on the fronts of buildings, I picked up an old leather wallet from the coffee table, and started feeling around in the coin pocket, which was nearly empty. But I pulled out two small beads, and everyone turned their attention to them.
One of them, a youngish man, iirc, asked if they were gold. I looked at them a minute, rolling them between my fingers, and then, announced that they were brass, which everyone found fascinating, and gathered around behind my shoulders for a closer look. I reached into the pocket again, and this time, I pulled out a handful of small stones -- some, clear drops of amber, others were yellow lace agates, with spidery white veins all the way through them. Still others were amber (or some other yellow gem like that) which some Victorian artist had carved with intricate floral designs that showed up white, just like the white veins in the agate -- I noted, at the time how similiar the natural stones were to the carved ones.
Then I pulled out the largest stone of all (maybe as lon as my thumb, and about twice as wide) that wasn't yellow, but was clearly meant to go with the yellow ones, as a contrast, or centerpiece. It was in its natural shape, but had been polished smooth and shiny. It was an agragate stone of mostly greyish and brownish flecks, but with a good bit of reddish orange and green, too.
I found a narrow leather thong among the beads & stones, and thought that they should be strung together into a neckless... I was contemplating how I might drill a hole in the largest stone when I woke up.
I still don't know why my attention was continually drawn to the yellow things (and they were all relatively the same goldeny-ambery shade, not bright lemon or dandilion yellow), or what that color has to do with my feelings of discrimination (if anything), but I woke up with the feeling that it was very important that all the things I really looked at in the dream were yellow... hmm...
BTW, "Dreamt" is the only word in the English language with the 'mt" letter comniation... or, at least, that's what I read somewhere...
And yesterday morning, I dreamt of yellow.
It started with me fiddling with my cat litter box (I have those mechanical ones, with the automatic rake), trying to get it to work.
When I was done with that, I noticed a bunch of dried grasses and flowers, like my mother used to pick. I decided I should gather them and arrange them into a proper bouquet. As I did so, I noticed (and marveled) that the goldenrod flowers still looked fresh and yellow, even though they were dried.
Then, the scene changed again, and I was sitting in a living room with a bunch of people whom I knew in the dream, but not in real life (that is, they didn't, consciously, refer to people I know in my waking state, but I had the sense in the dream that I was at a gathering of friends I'd been invited to). Anyway, the hostess, a black woman, was telling the story of some of the photos on the wall -- mainly of her father, and how he fought racial discrimination. As she told the story, the photos came to life and acted out scenes, like the pictures on the wall at Hogwarts.
As she wrapped up her tale, I started talking about the discrimination I face -- how often, people don't even seem to see me, because of the wheelchair, and I described what happened when I last went for a haircut, and the hairdresser spoke to my father instead of me. The gathered people made sympathetic noises, but said I should be more forgiving...
As I hemmed and hawed, and tried to describe how oppressive it felt, and how oppressive it felt to have to use back doors and service entrances, because architects and engineers don't want to put ramps on the fronts of buildings, I picked up an old leather wallet from the coffee table, and started feeling around in the coin pocket, which was nearly empty. But I pulled out two small beads, and everyone turned their attention to them.
One of them, a youngish man, iirc, asked if they were gold. I looked at them a minute, rolling them between my fingers, and then, announced that they were brass, which everyone found fascinating, and gathered around behind my shoulders for a closer look. I reached into the pocket again, and this time, I pulled out a handful of small stones -- some, clear drops of amber, others were yellow lace agates, with spidery white veins all the way through them. Still others were amber (or some other yellow gem like that) which some Victorian artist had carved with intricate floral designs that showed up white, just like the white veins in the agate -- I noted, at the time how similiar the natural stones were to the carved ones.
Then I pulled out the largest stone of all (maybe as lon as my thumb, and about twice as wide) that wasn't yellow, but was clearly meant to go with the yellow ones, as a contrast, or centerpiece. It was in its natural shape, but had been polished smooth and shiny. It was an agragate stone of mostly greyish and brownish flecks, but with a good bit of reddish orange and green, too.
I found a narrow leather thong among the beads & stones, and thought that they should be strung together into a neckless... I was contemplating how I might drill a hole in the largest stone when I woke up.
I still don't know why my attention was continually drawn to the yellow things (and they were all relatively the same goldeny-ambery shade, not bright lemon or dandilion yellow), or what that color has to do with my feelings of discrimination (if anything), but I woke up with the feeling that it was very important that all the things I really looked at in the dream were yellow... hmm...
BTW, "Dreamt" is the only word in the English language with the 'mt" letter comniation... or, at least, that's what I read somewhere...
