Bloggers share their dreams

 work with dreams. They are of endless fascination with me. Bloggers are also fascinated enough with some of their dreams that they post them to the blogosphere. Here is a little collection of such "tracks" left by the unconscious for you to ponder.

ileks talked about one of his dreams in today's Bleat. The first paragraph is a synopsis of certain "day material" that he connected to his dream:

Since school is out of session, I can’t go to the office. This shouldn’t really matter, as I work at home, but there’s something about being around other adults drawing a paycheck for a common goal that makes one feel part of a larger world. However small it actually is. Consequently I am going mad.

Had a dream this morning in which I was sucked into the great clanking bowels of a baggage conveyance system,, pulled like a Warner Brothers cartoon character through tubes and chutes – for one moment I realized I was in a small room, and as the hook attempted to pull me through a narrow apeture in the ceiling, I let go. (Apparently my subsconscious has been outsourcing the symbolism beat to failed TV sitcom writers; how obvious is all this?) The room looked like an abandoned shed, and I had a sudden horrid attack of claustrophobia, the sort only dreams can truly provide. In the dream I thought of something I’d said a few days ago when asked if I was claustrophobic: when God closes a door, He also paints shut a window. I stood on a box to see if I could get through the hole in the ceiling, but it was no good. It had the diameter of a coffee can. It was, in fact, a coffee can. I looked around the room, spotted a door – dreams sometimes operate like old text adventures, and if I’d just said >look room I would have seen it. I walked outside, and there was the glorious bright world. With a giant airplane crashed on the tarmac. I woke.

Small Victory includes a list of other blogs that refer to the dream, "bring me the head of eugene volokh!" Here is the dream:

When I fell asleep last night, Eugene Volokh was on Fox. I'm not sure what he was talking about, as my eyes were rolling in back of my head from exhaustion at that point, but whatever it was, my brain was still receiving Eugene's signal as I slept because I dreamed about him. Poor Eugene was just a head. He was rolling around my kitchen floor, trying to discuss Jayson Blair with my kids. But they would hear none of it. They just wanted to play basketball with the head of Eugene Volokh. We took the head and went outside, all the while Eugene going on and on about Jayson Blair and something about Scott Ritter. Once outside, we met Meryl Yourish and one of my bosses, who was wearing his judge's robe. He took Eugene's head away from us, tucked it under his robe and said "Look, I'm Roseanne Barr!"
I apologize to Mr. Volokh for dreaming about his head. I meant nothing by it.

his blogger, "SpinsterWitch" shared a "dreamlette," a dream fragment. It got some interesting comments from her readers.

lickr has a site that is called "the feels like dreaming pool." It has lots of great photos that resemble dream/pictures to the posters.

ahoo! Groups has a category of groups called Sleep and Dreams; there are over 200 different dream groups on the list.

Tags: dreams blogging

My topical post today at South by Southwest and The Reaction is about politics.