This work has never been edited, it is a raw, rough draft.
Instalment 3 – Wasp loop – Friday, 02 November 2012
This, is quite possibly the most simple dream I have ever had, I was even younger than the before dream, it may be my first I have committed to memory. It exhibits a looping structure, the actual dream short, just repeated. Like most sane people I have a good healthy fear of insects that wish to harm me, the worst of which being the wasp. The fear at this point was based on hearsay and their tendency to get up in your face whenever they fly by; I had never been stung, and neither would I be until I reached the age of 22. The attack was completely unprovoked, I was on my way into work, and it just stung me… for no reason, I was not harassing it, I was not running away, or doing anything else that is known to incur their wrath. The sting caused my arm to swell up and cause an amount of pain I had not even considered when running from them all those years… the irrational fear became justifiably rational from that point on. I had to visit the hospital for what they called “just a bad reaction”, and needless to say, I did not return to work that day, such a traumatic experience.
The fact that I had not experienced this yet served as no comfort to my dream self, she was more frightened of them than even my wake self.
Once again, the dream took place in my living room, the focal point this time being the round coffee table, to which I am not even sure if we have ever actually owned. Under the table was a round mat, a rug, the kind that people used to have back then with the floral pattern and borders, a circle in a circle. The only other feature I remember vague is the fireplace, painted to look pewter, a nice effect actually, the pretend gas flames in silence.
I was wearing a white button up dress which came down to my knees and my hair tied loose. I wore no shoes or sock, bare underfoot, I could feel the carpet beneath me. My parents were sat, on what I do not know; details of dreams rarely stay with me. Every time I wake from a dream I try hard to commit it to memory, each one precious to me, like it is a piece of my life I loose, I want to lock them in a box and keep them safe inexistence. Small things, details, which I so desperately cling to, always slip away as the morning light intrudes. When I try to write, some details flood back to me, help me to understand and fit them back together, disappointing when this does not follow, losing them forever, a part of myself.
I do feel sorry for people which have never had, or remember any of their dreams, they are missing out on one of life’s greatest treasures, and exploration of their mind in a way their wake self could not. What are you true fears? These are usually realised best in dreams, they show them for what they are, corporeal or internal. To sleep, and awaken hours later from hours of blackness seems lonely, secluded.
Anyway, the wasp, being the little useless git it is, chases me around a table… again and again and again. Around the table, never over or under… around…the whole dream. Not terribly exciting, but worthy of note as it is the first I can remember, not all dreams can be exciting fun fuelled adventures. Damn wasp would not leave me alone. I don’t remember the wake; I assume it happened; otherwise I would still be there now in a perpetual torturous loop of wasp filled hell. For that not being true, I am glad.