Tag Archives: dreams

The Sound of Silence

“Absolute silence leads to sadness. It is the image of death.”

– Jean-Jacques Rousseau

When I climb into bed at night, I am the type of person who needs some sort of sound: the humming of the fan, a bed time playlist flowing from my Ipod, the dog barking at the wind next door, maybe even some Family Guy on low volume on the television.

Being with sound keeps me from being completely alone with my thoughts, something that has always triggered a deafening sadness in me. At the end of the day, as we close our eyes and attempt to rest our minds enough to drift into a cozy sleep – that’s when the stress and the negative thoughts (at least for me) dig their way to the surface. The things I said but shouldn’t have, the things I didn’t say but should have, the possibilities of the future, the impossibilities of right now, the sound of my own breath, the sound of his, the wondering of how some people go to sleep and never wake up.

But with some sort of sound, I don’t feel quite so alone, and am often able to get to sleep with minimal amounts of depressing thoughts.

The Rousseau quote up there reminded me of a dream I had a few months ago. I’ve actually had a lot of dreams about death, but I don’t see any sort of elaborate meanings lying in those dreams except my fear of our inevitable demise. It’s funny how terrified I am of it, yet I am completely obsessed with blood and gore and writing furiously about the two. Maybe there’s something to be said about that? Hm.

Anyway, this particular dream had me sitting straight up in bed once it had ended, a light coat of sweat on my forehead, my legs tangled up in the sheets, Joe still snoring peacefully next to me.

I was heading down a narrow, icy path, much like if I were a competitor in the Luge. I could feel flakes of ice on my shins as time sped up and everything around me began to blur. I felt as though I were roaring through a conduit where I was allowed to feel for one last time every shiny memory of my life: memories of birthdays, of my parents, of being an only child.

I knew what was coming, but I didn’t have time to be afraid, or to protest. Right before I woke up I was swallowed into a darkness; I mean, a completely unforgiving darkness. I may as well have gone blind, but I hadn’t. The world, my mind, everything had simply been snuffed out. But somehow I knew it had been, as if I were still there, but I wasn’t. But the darkness and the silence were so heavy. Thinking about it now gives me a lump in my throat.

The silence has always depressed me, but that dream instilled something even more traumatizing inside of me. Surrounding myself with all the noise and colors and constant busy-ness of the world helps me to focus only on the beauty of life, and how precious it is.

Sorry to get all morbid over here. But I’d like to know if anyone else feels this way about silence. I do enjoy alone time – very much so – but there always has to be a little something singing to me in the background.

If I ever find myself completely alone (let’s hope this never happens), I’ll have to listen closely to the sound of my own heartbeat, reminding me that there’s no time to be afraid.






Filed under Uncategorized, Writing

If a black cat means bad luck, I’m screwed.

At least the one in my dream didn't look like he was going to eat me.

Could it be that my mind is going into Halloween mode, with the beautiful chilly weather we’ve been having? Or maybe it was the Merlot we drank that evening?

Either way, I haven’t had an actual nightmare in quite a while. But Saturday night brought a black cat and the premonition of death into my head.

First, here’s how it went:

I sat on the couch in someone’s living room, while a co-worker of mine was in the bathroom. Suddenly I heard the front door creak open, and turned my head to look down a long hallway, where I saw a sliver of light creep in along with the black cat. How did he open the door? I have no idea. But he slinked inside and began to make his way down the hall.

Somehow, as most of us do in strange dreams, I knew he was there for me, and that it was bad news bears.

And so I ran, frightened, into the bathroom with my co-worker, where I slammed the door shut and figured I would be safe. The cat, who had reached the bathroom just then, began to sweep his paws back and forth in the crack between door and floor, and I made every attempt I could to bat them away.

Then comes the really creepy part.

The cat’s face appeared as he effortlessly slipped his body through that same crack. Of course I nearly had a heart attack, especially when he proceeded to rise up on his back legs, coming towards me with paws outstretched.

Here, I begged: “I’m not ready to go! Not yet! There are still people I have to help!”

And with that, the cat promised me another 6 months.

I woke startled, and convinced I was going to die unless I did something to somehow benefit others.

Strange, is it not?

I’ve always been aware of the symbolism of the black cat in relation to Halloween, etc. But after a quick Google search I stumbled upon this site, that aids in interpreting dreams as crazy as my own.

The site talks about cats as symbols of femininity, independence, sexuality – all of which I did not feel were trying to be known in my dream. And then I read this:

“To see a black cat in your dream indicates that you are experiencing some fear in using your psychic abilities and believing in your intuition. You may erroneously associate the black cat with evil, destruction, and bad luck. In particular, if the black cat is biting, clawing or attacking you, then the dream means that you must acknowledge what your intuition is trying to tell you. You can no longer ignore it. Do not be afraid to face the situation. If you see a white cat, then it denotes difficult times.”

I definitely don’t think I retain any psychic abilities, but I do strongly believe in my own intuition. It has revealed the truth to me on several occasions, and when it’s at work it always puts knots in my stomach. The curious thing? I went to bed that night with that nauseous, knots-in-my-tummy feeling (but so did a girlfriend that stayed over…we thought it was the chicken from the wedding).

While the cat did not bite or claw me, I’d say standing on your hind legs and running towards me can be categorized as an attack. Is my intuition trying to tell me something? For now, I’m not sure. But I’m trying to keep my mind wide open to anything my little “friend” was trying to reveal.

For now, I’ll keep thinking it was the chicken (and the wine).

And maybe I’ll do some volunteer work…

Have any wacky dreams lately?


Filed under Uncategorized