Of Idiocy and Dismay

My dreams seldom make sense. They are so humongously senseless - the degree of senselessness being hitherto unheard of - that the very idea of scribing those senseless dreams made far more sense than all of the dreams put together.  This statement should be decisive of the fact that my dreams make a zilch of sense when analyzed individually.  And hence would apparently make none when conglomerated. Since the post has so far made no sense, I decide to sweat detail on the obviously more senseless motif this post pivots on – my monumentally inane dreams. All along, I have been talking about the dreams that occur to one when he/she is in his/her REM sleep (If you are awaiting an elucidation on the REM sleep, you should probably be looking into this link - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rapid_eye_movement_sleep ) Oh! And don’t forget to read the rest of the post once you are done wiki-ing; not that it is going to make much sense anyway.

In most of my dreams, my means of locomotion strikes as what anyone would term ‘disturbingly abnormal’. I use four limbs. I have spoken to people who study psychology – well, they claim to study psychology. And naïve that I am, I trusted in their expertise and had a counseling session. This one did not happen like a typical psychoanalysis session – you know, like the ones in a dim lit room with my friend wearing a geeky glass and chewing the rear end of a pen and probing me with questions and occasionally making notes of my twaddling, and me, sporting a vacuous expression, lying on one of those longish sofas with an elevated head rest.  We only spoke over the telephone. Writing about something as senseless this, it is difficult not to digress - apologies. So getting back to what my psychology-literate friends told. Most of them were of the opinion that I had not evolved enough. My sub conscious mind still saw me as a hairless-ape, and hence necessitated the use of two additional limbs when I walked or ran in my dream. They also wanted to know if bananas appealed to me greater in my dreams. I have not really noticed. But I sure have noticed that the four limb traversal has its own detriments - the physical stance for one. Though I fancy I look like a fierce cheetah when I run in my dreams, I know I probably bear strong resemblances to a spooked hairless chimpanzee being chased by a bully muscular hairless chimpanzee in the Hairless Chimpanzee High School. This makes me quite glad I am the only one that can see my dreams; this and much more actually. 

Like most others, at times I dream of flying. Essentially being a dream of mine qualifies it enough to conclude there is a definite something bizarre concurrent with this. What I do, cannot be exactly called flying. I should say I more like bounce, over a distance of which I have no control. And I do it off the hard ground sans a Wile.E.Coyote-style ‘Acme Help-Yourself-Giant-Spring’ attached to my leg. In such dreams I seem to be faced with a serious crunch when I climb down stairs because I always bounce beyond the length of the whole flight and crash face first onto the wall. The face first encounter causes me to bounce back to the flight I just descended. And the rest of my dream becomes a vicious circle of bouncing on and off the wall and stairs. I wake up battered and exhausted after those dreams. 

Rigor Vividus (an improvisation of Rigor Mortis that I just invented) inundates the whole of me in all of my dreams where my adrenal gland is supposed to be working its heads off. (Technically though, adrenal gland is never known to have possessed a head).  I am terrorized by a lot of dreams where I am chased by a drunken beggar with a bad flu and a leaky nose or a rabid puppy just out of a gutter. And I stand exactly where I am. Scared to death and yet too lazy and sleepy to move an inch. And when I open my mouth to scream for help, I croak and then yawn. Once the beggar or the puppy reaches a tactile vicinity, I wake up totally petrified, beady with sweat, hard on breath. And I check if in actual I can move my limbs. I can get back to sleep peacefully only after I have checked for the mobility of all my muscles. And by the time I am done checking for the functionality of my muscles, it is already a bright morning and my mom appreciates me for being health conscious and working out. She fails to realize that I have just been bludgeoned by a dream. 

Strange, even for my standards, I can at times realize that I am dreaming. And in such dreams I tend to get too adventurous with the credence that no physical injury can afflict me. I jump off my balcony or run head on into a wall. Sadly, nothing of my expectation ever happens, not that I can exactly define what my expectation is at that point of time. When it is jumping off the balcony, I never reach the ground and am still falling till I wake up. And when it is running into the wall, I never reach the wall to collide into, and I keep running towards the wall that is always at the same distance from me. May be I run on a treadmill. I am just too amazed to look down for a confirmation. Such dreams are, umm... An appropriate adjective would be ‘Taxingly Prosaic ’? And on a completely different note, physics seems extraneous in my dreams.

Talk about dreamlands! How I wish mine were rich and serene and comforting! I mean, would you fantasize dreams of beggars with leaky noses?