The other day I wrote about dreams. What I forgot to mention is that the more you draw inspiration from your dreams, the more they will come to you.
I don’t know about other people’s dreams, but mine are pretty fucked up.
Weird dreams. Fun dreams. Nonsensical dreams. Bad dreams. I can go through all of these in just one night. Sometimes I remember them in excruciating detail. Sometimes only a vague feeling of sorrow or sadness remains.
Since I started using dreams as an alternative source material, I find myself very drawn to everything dream related: insomnia, sleep paralysis, dreamcatchers, dream interpretation…
The fact is that if you remember your dreams, they can tell you a lot about who you are as a person and what you hope to achieve in life. What troubles you. What moves you. What terrifies you.
I mean… If you believe in such a thing.
As a writer, my mind is tuned into the fictional aspect of life, to read between the lines, to see with words what other feel. Writing, in my opinion, leaves you more vulnerable to the spiritual.
Please don’t go about mixing up spiritual with religious, it is not at all the same thing. I don’t have a religious bone in my body — nothing against those who do, it simply isn’t for me.
I am not a nihilist, however. I do believe there is some purpose to this life.
Spirituality is often defined as ‘a search for the sacred’. The point being what is sacred to you?
To me, peace of mind is sacred. It is not easy for me to reach it and I haven’t felt it that often in my life. I am restless and inquisitive and doubtful and sometimes profoundly moved by simple things for reasons I can’t even start to comprehend. Therefore, for being such a rarity in my life, peace of mind in the sacred thing for which I long for.
I feel closer to it when I write. Writing makes all my worries and fears and insecurities take new homes in other places than my mind.
Dreaming helps to. When I dream, I am free, boundless. The chains that sometimes keep my mind from growing and moving forward are no more. Even when the dream makes absolutely no sense. Sometimes BECAUSE the dream makes absolutely no sense.
Most of the time, I still feel like I am writing amidst a deep fog. What I learned it that even if there is no lighthouse on the horizon, I can still look down and see my hands. As long as I can see them, I know I will get where I need to be.