Waking dream

[vaneramos]

Last night while reading Becoming Animal in bed I had a strange, unfamiliar experience. The chapter made sense, but at a certain moment I recalled an earlier paragraph that seemed completely unrelated to the subject. I reviewed the previous page, couldn't find the bizarre passage, concluded it must have come earlier, and decided to read on.

A few minutes later, it happened again. This time, just as I finished reading a paragraph, I had the feeling it did not fit. I reread it. It was gone. At least, the unusual paragraph I remembered reading had vanished, replaced by something that made sense.

Then I realized the lost paragraph had told a story about me. That made no sense. I couldn't be in the book. I must have dreamt it, but I was not asleep. I was not even drowsy. I often become sleepy while reading in bed, but on such occasions I lose focus and begin rereading sentences because I can't absorb their meaning. During this experience I was alert and could easily comprehend the meaning on the page, however my mind had layered another unrelated story overtop.

The actual passage in the book employed intense imagery to describe a lake as the sun fell behind a nearby mountain. The landscape moved from light into shadow. My mind's eye could see it clearly. I believe this must have opened a threshold in my brain as it prepared for sleep, allowing me to experience a waking dream.

The vision of my dream appeared written on the page. "Cosima visited my apartment, intent on finding something. I helped her look through some boxes." I could see Cosima: a young woman with white hair. Despite the unusual name, she seemed to be my grandmother, Fern Waffle, or Constanze Mozart as she appeared in Amadeus, or most likely the white-haired Kimberly Ford in Guy Gavriel Kay's Fionavar Tapestry. The passage went on another sentence or two. Cosima led me bodily through the boxes as though they were small chambers on the wall of my apartment. I experienced it all as a narrative printed on the page.

Then I was fully awake, trying to find the passage so I could reread it. When I realized what had happened, I was surprised but not upset. Should I go to sleep? Wanting to finish the chapter I flipped ahead to see how much longer: three more pages. So I read to the end without further adventure.

I must have had two of them, but can't remember the content of the first dream. I am extremely curious: has anyone experienced anything like it? It was like a hallucination (I suppose, because I have never hallucinated before), all within the context of reading a book. I believe it happened because my mind was preparing to sleep and dream.

Something strange is afoot with my psyche. Recently, symptoms of incipient depression have plagued the mornings. Today I couldn't get going. I used the light box but that will take a few days to make much difference. I stayed home from work, taking things hour by hour, hoping the relaxation would help me feel well enough to go in for a while. By mid-afternoon I was so distressed even computer games did not distract me. Finally, I lay down on the couch with Becoming Animal and read two chapters. That was better. I became drowsy (extremely unusual during the day), closed my eyes and dozed off several times, but a mini panic attack prevented me from falling asleep each time. Remembering the strange dream last night, I got up and wrote this. Now I feel fine.

When I phoned Danny this morning, he wondered whether the distress relates to changes in my sleep pattern. My suspicions agree.

I have begun to get more sleep. Relieved of the stress of persistent, marginal exhaustion, my emotions collapse. Does that makes any sense? Other, nameless things erupt underneath. I feel intense lassitude, grief and resistance, mingled with creeping panic because I can't afford sick time.

Comments

[artricia.livejournal.com]

When I sleep after a longish period of exhaustion, things get weird. I dream intensely, and feel those dreams intensely too. I haven't to my knowledge had this kind of waking dream, but I have done visualization and trance work. It gets weird. IIRC, you've had lucid dreams before, too, correct?

I wonder if the book struck a chord with you? I'm intrigued by the idea of Cosima, who by name and description sounds quite goddess-like, trying to help you find something packed away. (or leading you through some structure? I'm not quite sure as you describe it here.) In any case, an apartment or house usually serves as a symbol for the self.

[vaneramos.livejournal.com]

I have had lucid dreams. The first ones I ever had occurred while I was on morphine recovering from abdominal surgery. It seemed like the boundary between sleeping and waking had broken down somewhat. Last night's experience felt strangely similar to that, though it was not nearly as intense, and not at all disturbing (parts of the morphine experience were extremely unpleasant).

My feelings about the book so far are mixed, however the intense imagery of the particular passage I was reading last night probably set my mind up for the waking dream. I wonder whether I might use similar readings to evoke further experience of this phenomenon.

Kim Ford, the character I believe I was trying to recall, is a seer and a person of action, benevolent and strong-willed.

[ghostsandrobots.livejournal.com]

I think something like that has happened to me before, but can't remember any specific time. Once it gets to the point where I'm reading the same paragraph over and over and getting words wrong, my brain is pretty fried and unlikely to hold onto much of anything.

Neat experience, but sorry to hear you've been feeling unsettled.

[vaneramos.livejournal.com]

I often have that problem: reading a paragraph over and over before I finally realize the effort to stay awake is pointless. This felt so strange because it was a similar experience, but different. The dreaming hit me before the drowsiness, instead of the other way around.

And thanks...today was another rough day.

[inishglora.livejournal.com]

Can't recall anything specific, but FWIW, Cosima supposedly means "Order in the Universe."

[vaneramos.livejournal.com]

Cosima Wagner was the wife of composer Richard, and her physical resemblance to Mozart's wife makes me suspect a musical connection. It's weird how dream characters manage to be multiple people at once.

[inishglora.livejournal.com]

Oh, now that I find happens to me quite often.

[twillhead.livejournal.com]

This is very interesting to me, because I had a similar experience about twenty years ago, although not while reading a book. I was sitting on the edge of the bed talking to David, who was sitting next to me, and I laid back on the bed, feeling drowsy, while our quiet conversation continued. Without warning, and with my eyes wide open, I began to dream vividly... I could see the bedroom and its contents and David, but it was intermingled with a winter scene on top of a steep hill, and in the "dream" David wanted for us to sled down the hill. I remarked out loud, "I don't think so, David... we'll break our necks if we try to slide down that hill!" Outside of the dream David said, "What did you just say?" which I heard perfectly well, and I repeated myself. This went on for about three minutes with me making comments in the dream which were simultaneously out loud, and David becoming more and more freaked out because, from his perspective, I was talking complete gibberish. Finally the sensation "broke" and I sat up and explained to David what had just happened. I had never experienced anything like that before or since, although I have had sleepwalking incidents that would curl your hair, so sleep-related weirdness is not new to me. Anyway, it seems a close approximation to your episode. I think it is fascinating, and I am glad you're not letting it upset you. Your reasoning for it occurring seems sound.

[vaneramos.livejournal.com]

Interesting story! It reminds me of my friends Sylvie and Sarah, who sometimes carry on elaborate conversations while Sarah is asleep, however she doesn't remember them when she wakes up.

As far as I know I have only had one sleep-walking episode. It happened after a busy day at my school's art fair when I was 11 or 12. I went downstairs and outside, left the front door standing open, and headed for a garage two doors down, past a small woodlot. As I walked along, gazing at the full moon over Lake Erie, Mom called my name from the front door. I partly woke up and returned. She asked what I was doing. I said, "Looking for three-dimensional pictures." I had been demonstrating paper tole at the art fair all day. To this day I have never seen the inside of Kennedys' garage.