Saturday, April 19, 2014

Dream: Salmon Fishing on a Lipizzaner

Undeniably, one of the best times of the day is that moment when one first awakens. It is that moment when one must transition between the sleeping to the awakened mind … from the subconscious to the conscious. It is the moment when the gift of dreams revealed occurs and the conscious mind attempts to insert rhyme, reason or relevancy. This morning I lay in bed trying to sort out the scattered fragments of last nights dream. It is amazing how in an instant one recalls an aspect of a dream and in the next instant it is gone. One only remembers that he remembered something.

The way it used to be ...
Last night I was dreaming about fishing, spurred on by recent TV shows I watched about the Alaskan bears feeding on fish during the salmon runs. In my dream, I was the one in the stream catching the salmon as they raced upstream through the rapids. However, I was not wading. Instead, I was mounted on a large horse, which nimbly leaped amid the boulders in pursuit of the fish.  No, the horse did not grab the salmon in its teeth.  I had a long spear that I used. No doubt this dream spear is the same spear that I made recently for fish and frog gigging. The spear is made from an old device I found at the flea market years ago that was patented in Norway in 1914 and was used by fishermen to latch on to fish over the side of the boat. I am certain that the horse that I was riding was a very large one … perhaps a Belgium. I cannot shake the idea that it might have been a Lipizzaner. 

I have distinct visions of it doing the famous Lipizzaner leaps in midstream as we fish, but I believe that is just the conscious mind inserting thoughts just to get into the act.

Interestingly, the dream changed, which might again be the working of the conscious mind while trying to recall the actual dream. The new dream was basically the same except it all occurred not in the stream itself, but on the roller of an old manual typewriter as it turned. 


Next thing I realized was that the dream was gone and I was thinking about “lepricorns”. As best I can figure, these are some kind of mutated cross between leprechauns and unicorns … that is little Irish fairies with a single spear-like horns protruding from their foreheads.

It was definitely time to get up.








Monday, April 7, 2014

Dream: Bold-Shave-Vics

I didn't realize that I had been dreaming until I got in the shower. Awakened to a beautiful day … sun shining and the temperature heading rapidly to freezing. I headed to the shower and it struck me how my morning walk … still-legged, wobbling, refamiliarizing with what I once ( I just typed wince which may be the better word) called balance … how my morning walk was not so unlike that of the "walking dead" on the TV show. I don't watch it … it is way too familiar!

Once in the shower, the warm water revived partial memories of my dream. I was at what seemed to be some sort of resort. We were on a tour boat of speeding across the water in an Everglades type of area. The boat was similar to a jonboat, but faster and more comfortable. On board were the Captain and several guests, tourists I would think. I was talking to a woman seated in front of me and recall pointing out to her the incredibly beautiful vegetation and flowers beneath the surface of the water. There were also artificial lights that seemed to be installed underwater as well.

I recall laughing and saying to the woman (she seemed very familiar) that I didn't think the Captain knew exactly where he was going and I wondered if he had accidentally crossed the park boundary into a private area. Sure enough, we soon heard singing … in Russian.  We looked to the left and there were a couple of Russian submarines, cruising just below the surface of the water. The singing we had heard was the sound of the submarine crews singing  Russian nationalistic songs aboard the sub, like in the old spy movies.

We were suddenly back at the resort hotel lobby. Everyone was relaxing by the fireplace and chatting about the day. I was talking to the lady from the boat again. She was looking at the fireplace and turned to me to say something. She had grown a beard … it was a scraggly one as if she had been on a deserted island for several weeks or like the astronauts when they comeback from space. She blushed and made an excuse about needing to go shave.

Now that I am awake, it occurs to me that this is just the kind of thing that happens to one when he goes on boat excursions while on vacation and why I hate them so.