A Path to the Unconscious

For as far back as I can remember, I have had a total of three recurring dreams. These dreams have become embedded in my conscious memory, their imagery as vivid as waking reality. The landscapes are of true hues of green, whites, and earthen colors, sometimes covered in gray fog that is as clear as it is translucent under a faint sunlight. In another dream, a house that I have only inhabited in unconscious memory, contains spaces as real and tactile as the chair I am presently sitting in as I write this. The home’s redwood trim still haunts my visions as does the reason for my visit in the dream. A lover once lived here, I recall, though this lover does not exist in my life today. I could not quite reconcile the memory, nor could I explain the reasons for my visit. What I do know is this. I paid a visit to a place I know very well, in my dreaming life. I clearly and positively was aware of this knowing upon awaking, though the house and the lover do not physically exist.

Or do they?

This anomaly of consciousness has been my preoccupation for most of my adult life. Like most earth dwellers, I sleep and I dream. I ask questions about the dream. I ask the dream what it means. Sometimes, I interpret them. Most times, the answer is elusive. Other times, they come in increments, just enough for me to gnaw at something for the time being to keep me occupied. Rightfully this process must be, lest we lose the mystery of life. The wonders of a story, told through whispers in the dream. We may be learning of a means by which a path can be paved to meet the unconscious. There indeed exists a possibility that a path or many paths have been delineated by those who have traveled before us. There exists another possibility that the path has always existed–a path well traveled.

Can this path be mapped?

Photo: La Jetee. Book of film stills by Chris Marker

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