Miss Manship and the Bible of Dreams

When I was in my final year of uni, I took a psychology/writing unit called 'Writing Therapy'.  The purpose of the class was to examine the therapeutic benefits of writing and to discern whether writing can be a help or a hinderance in some situations (using writers such as Plath and Sexton...was the outlet of writing a delaying of the inevitable or could it have been the cause of them taking their lives?).  Anyways, one of the exercises for the class was to put a pen and paper right next to your bed and start writing the minute you open your eyes in the morning.  Apparently, because you are still in a semi-dreamlike state when you first awake, you are likely to be more in touch with your subconscious.  The idea interested me a lot and so I started setting my alarm five minute earlier in the morning and writing down my dreams.  Once I started writing down the dreams, they started getting more and more vivid.  Every night my dreams were getting stranger and stranger and I was enjoying capturing them on paper so much that I was even setting my alarm to go off in the middle of the night so that I could write down more of my dreams.  Slightly obsessive, I know but some of the material that I was getting for my writing was unbelievable.  I would get up in the morning with notes from the night before (usually stuck to my face or written on my arm) and have no recollection of the dreams themselves.  I have notebooks full of these dreams and not I want to start recording them on my blog but I don't really want them to get in the way of my regular blog so I've set up a separate blog purely for the purpose of recording some of my more elaborate dreams.  It's just an experiment at the moment but if anyone is interested in having a squiz, the address is

http://missmanshipandthebibleofdreams.blogspot.com/

Sweet dreams (,")

Marmalade Musings

*Dream from the eve of September 10, 2009*


In this particularly vivid dream (not too long after watching 'Coraline' by the way), I had a bit of an Alice in Wonderland moment and stepped through my bedroom door into a nightclub.  It was a bit of a 'Jazzbar' type club, three levels underground and quite cosy.  The weirdest part of the dream (not the fact that I had a club connected to my bedroom, of course) was that everything in the club was orange.  It was called 'Zest' and absolutely everything in the room was a shade of orange.  Coloured lampshades threw a tangerine glare on the faces of the club-goers (who were all Scottish redheads apart from two 'Bugsy Malone' white rabbits sat at the bar, mixing gin and tonics with carrot stick stirrers). There were baskets of orange tic-tacs on pumpkin-patterned tablecloths and big, orange thought bubbles floating above people's heads, popping every now and then and dousing the thinker in a citrusy spray.  Coldplay's 'Yellow' and Simply Red were playing over the soundsystem.

It was almost like being trapped in that Beatle song...

Picture yourself in a boat on a river
With tangerine trees and marmalade skies


What does this all mean??  I don't even like orange...

Untitled Piece of Prose

*AUTHOR UNKNOWN*

I stood on a grassy embankment,
And at my feet a precipice broke sure down to infinite space.
I looked but saw no bottom, only cloud shapes, black and furiously coiled.
A great shadow shrouded hollows and unfathomable depths,
I drew back, dizzy at the depth.

Then I saw forms moving single file along the grass
They were making for the edge
I saw a woman with a child, holding onto her dress
She was on the very verge

Then I saw that she was blind
she lifted her foot for the next step
It trod air
She was over and the child with her
and, oh the cry as they went over

And then I saw more streams of people,
Flowing from all quarters
All were blind, totally blind, all making straight for the precipice edge
There were shrieks as they suddently felt themselves falling
And tossing up of helpless arms
Catching, clutching at empty air

But some went over quietly and fell without a word

I wondered with a wonder that was simple agony why no-one stopped them at the edge
I couldn't
I was glued to the ground
I couldn't call, though I strained and tried
Only a whisper would come

And then I saw along the edge
There were centuries set at intervals
But the intervals were far too great
There were wide, unguarded gaps between them and over these gaps people fell in their blindness
Quite unwarned

And the green grass seemed blood-red to me
And the gulf yawned like the mouth of hell

Then I saw a picture of peace
A group of people sitting under some trees with their backs towards the gulf
They were making daisy chains

Sometimes when a piercing shriek cut through the quiet air and reached them
It disturbed them and they thought it a rather vulgar noise
And if one of their number started up and wanted to go and do something to help,
The all the others would pull that one down

'Why should you get so excited about it?
You must wait for a definite call to go,
You haven't finished your daisy chain yet
It would be really quite selfish,' they said, 'to leave us to finish the work by ourselves.'

There was another group
It was made up of people whose great desire was to get more centuries out
But they found that very few wanted to go
And sometimes there were no centuries set for a mile on the edge

Once a girl stood alone in her place
Waving people back
But her mother and relations called and reminded her that her time was up
And she mustn't break the rules
And being tired and needing a change, she had to go and rest for awhile

But no-one was set to guard her gap,
And over and over the people fell
Like a waterfall of souls

Once a boy caught a tuft of grass at the very brink of the gulf
He climbed convulsively and he called
But no-one seemed to hear

Then the roots of the grass gave way
And with a cry, the boy went over
With two hands still holding tight to the torn-off bunch of grass

And the girl who longed to be back at the gap
Thought she heard the young boy cry and she sprang up, wanting to go
But they reproved her, reminding her that no-one is really necessary anywhere
The gap will be well-taken care of

And they sang a hymn,
And then, through the hymn, came another sound
A sound like a million broken hearts,
Wrung out in one fearful sob,
And a horror and great darkness was upon me,
For I knew what it was,
It was the cry of blood