Dreams

Dreams

June 16, 2026

Now comes life’s season, when all our dreams are bad. Hospital sirens call us, to rooms we cannot find. Shadows stalk us, which we cannot see – and we stalk those we cannot grasp. Have all the good dreams gone, from out the brainstem oscillators of our mind? Or, has the accumulation of life’s discontents stormed over all gentle memories?

This is not right. We deserve better, for all the Good that we have done. But perhaps it is as Clint Eastwood said it would be, in his Academy Award winning movie, The Unforgiven; “Deserves got nothing to do with it.”

Actually, it is worse than we have described it. One specially evil dream pursues us; waits for us at time of sleep then paradoxically screams to us … AWAKE AWAKE!

This dream is a feeling dream. It is always the same; always different. It is the time of winter in this dream; the time of giving gifts, and of getting. We sit before a sickly fire. We have a gift. It is for us, we know it is for us. But we cannot open it. We try, Oh Yes we try. But behind us, mocking us, we feel the burning gaze of two disdainful eyes; eyes always watching; eyes always judging. We begin to look behind – but then, we awaken.

The silence alone has been the scarce comfort of this dream, but last night even that was ended, in the singing of a high pitched siren song:

“DAI – WEE,” we heard

“DAI – WEE.”

“Captain,” says the singer to us, accusing us in the ancient Asian language of evil. Captain.

We must heal ourselves here. We must find the comforts of our time; bring them closer to our sleeping self. And the best of these, for which we are genuinely Thankful, has been the disappearance from our mind and brain of our smallest, but most inveterate critic; the disappearance of … ROSCOE.

We shall hold tight to this comfort, and it shall make us well.