I've heard that some people have a hard time remembering their dreams: these people will either say either they don't dream at all or the last dream they can remember having was several years ago. On the other hand, I can remember my dreams fairly easily. I might even have two or three memorable dreams in one night, which to me, seems like a lot. But at the very least, I will have a dream that I can remember about once every week. This last dream that I had the other night was fairly disturbing. There was a very large pig underneathe a queen-size bed. It had lived there for several years, stuck and very probably in pain, but I had only just discovered it. Initially, I tried to feed it placing my hand near its mouth to feel its weak bite, but this was not working. I pulled the mattress and the box spring off to the right, leaned them against the wall, and released the pig from its imprisonment. Before it's snout was the only thing visible, but now the whole pig came into view. It was stuck in a metal frame and looked entirely hideous. I'll spare you the exact details of the visual, suffice it to say that the pig looked disgusting because it was covered with sores and wounds. Still, I felt pity for it and tried to bring it back to health after releasing it from its abusive confinement.
The dream has stayed with me for a few days, and the literary critic in me cannot resist trying to sort out and interpret the metaphors. In a way, (that I will leave completely unanalyzed), the dream is symbolic of a very rough two-week period for me. I have been eating too much, sleeping irregularly, and spending a lot of time alone. I'm going to be changing a few things soon that will help me come out of the funk that I find myself in, but at the moment, I am just trying to maintain some positive habits that will supposedly pull me into a better place. Despite popular cliches, staying still can sometimes be a type of progress.
Mossy River Bank
Anyway, all of this aside, I have been reading more, perhaps not enough, but definitely more. Right now, I am reading Rick Moody's memoir The Black Veil, and I enjoy the artistry of the sentences and the narrative so far. I'm hoping that it will provide me with some inspiration to get to my own writing. Writing on the blog can be problematic sometimes as it is a essentially a public medium. I've thought that I should write more in my personal journals because there I can be a little more free with my expression. I've read some of the journals I've written over ten years ago, and it is interesting to see how I have personally grown, but also note where the journal really works as good writing (in just a very few places), and note where it the writing is truly terrible (on nearly every page). I have had similar journal thoughts when it comes to my art. I really need to practice my drawing skills more, especially as I have not drawn a single thing since the final week of Spring Term.
Really, I have spent much of my time, perhaps too much, on the computer playing World of Warcraft. It has been a little easier emotionally to explore the forests of that silly game, than go for hike in the woods twenty minutes from my house. But, I have been making some attempts to get out of my so-called comfort zone. The cup of coffee picture at the top of the page is evidence of a recent trip to be out and about, and I am hoping that positive steps like these will help me build the momentum up to be more confident in general. In any event, I'm hoping the next two weeks go a little better.