Dreams...
Tuesday, February 22, 1995 - 2:25am
Story Musgrave's talk stirred up a lot of thoughts. His discussion of dreams is what prompted me to begin keeping my dream journal. Making the conscious decision to hold on to my dreams has made a noticeable difference. While I've always had an active dream life, I rarely retained dreams far past the first half hour of waking. I often relate my dreams to Colette, often in jarringly discontinuous and even nonsensical narrative. Most often, I have to ask her later in the day about my own dream... the memory was erased and gone soon after the telling.
I've managed to jot down fragments of three dreams so far. The most difficult part is making the transition from the half-awake state when the dream is clearest to a state where I'm able to reach for the pen and write in the notebook. On two other occasions, I've retained the dream but been unable to really rouse myself to the next level where I could write it down. Without the written record, the dream was lost. The other difficulty is retaining more than one dream at a time. Twice, I awoke with pieces of multiple dreams in mind. To record one dream in the journal required enough focus to erase the others. The others were lost.
I think my dreams are a potentially powerful source of inspiration. The vividness and intensity of some of my dreams have stayed with me for years. These tend to be a little frightening in their intensity... sometimes terribly dark and violent, sometimes frankly sexual, sometimes both. I've often thought that the thing that makes me a commercial artist rather than a fine artist is my lack of internal inspiration. I seek external causes to inspire my artwork. Perhaps I just need to look a little deeper... I need to be willing to tap into my 'dark' side.
I saw the play Jekyll and Hyde over the weekend. Another reminder of my 'dark side.' I often wonder whether that part of me would emerge triumphant, given the proper circumstance. If I were inserted into a situation like Bosnia... after all, those who are committing unspeakable acts were just ordinary people once. Yet the potential for monstrosity was probably there all along, submerged, just as it is with me. Just as it is with everyone, I suspect. If only I could direct that monster, make it express itself on paper, canvas or digital medium...
Today's collaborative writing exercise was enjoyable. I had the classic tightness again, where my initial writing felt forced, unnatural, unpleasant, nervous. The second and subsequent writing segments were much more relaxed, much more free-flowing. The difference between the first and second segments was dramatic. How much was due to my usual ability to let go, to break down that tightness? How much was due to the relief of having a known direction to pursue (that is, a starting point from the previous segments)? How much, from relief of sole responsibility for the final product?
[ Out of Balance ]
author: Gerry
Manacsa
copyright 1996