No one looks forward to having bad dreams. They are an uncomfortable business that can sour your whole day. It isn’t expected that a soft bed in a pleasant hotel room in sunny Spain turns out out to be the gateway to the dark, chaotic subconscious. But there I was, on vacation, for my birthday, and having terrible dreams.  Negatives aside, they can be as much of a learning tool as anything else, if you pay attention to them. And I didn’t find it so very queer to be having them- given my circumstances. I have come to the age where I am supposed to have built up something: a career, a business, a family- something. I feel I have nothing and am steadily, stubbornly moving forward making absolutely no headway.

My brain is grappling with the obscure ‘path’ I am on and the lack of common markers that are found in most people’s lives. So of course the very moment I “get away from it all’ the demons appear. I finally got the space enough to deal with them.
I remembered enough of three separate dreaming events to write down the parts that clung to my waking mind:
Without hitting all the details, my first dream centered on the loss of a tooth; the second was the most intense: I confronted my inner chaos (again); the third dream was being in a n earthquake. Then I would come back to a world of tourist traps, deep fried calamari that look like onion rings, maid service and marvelous espressos.

Even now that I am back in the West, these last two nights I’ve had dreams. One was about losing even more teeth.

I haven’t sorted it out yet.