In and out of Dreams


Ghost House

Ghost House

 

Last night I had several nightmares. After I shook off one,  another one  started. In the last one, I tried to escape from a high building and the only way out was climbing down a ladder outside. This ladder was attached to the long end of a  beam on which the ladder could slide towards a door. But first I had to reach the ladder. Once on it, there was nothing underneath. I thought I was in a Buster Keaton movie and “knew” I would fall off the ladder. I was at a great height and decided to wake up.

After that,  I drifted off to a quieter dream in which I found myself in an old  carriage, with wooden benches, on a train in Melbourne. In deep thoughts about my whereabouts, I lifted my feet up and placed them on the seat. Before the next stop, a man got up and walked to the door. When he stopped beside me he indicated, with a nod of his head, that he wanted me to take my feet off  the seat.

I apologised and told him, that I normally would not do such a thing.  We got talking, in an amicable way, about the ignorance of people. When the train stopped and he got off the train I had a thought and shouted after him that it was not easy for knowledgeable people and they  often were  mistaken for shy people.

A woke up and grabbed a notebook, I have  on my bedside table, to complete the thought I had started in my dream:

“In a sea of ignorance, the knowing person is quietly swimming to a distant shore. His silence is often mistaken as shyness by other swimmers around him, who noisily splash about, covering for their fear of the unknown.”

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5 thoughts on “In and out of Dreams

  1. A good bit of philosophy and wisdom intertwined. I remember those wooden trains. On our stopover in Melbourne in 1956 we took a train while the boat was unloading migrants destined for Melbourne. I could not believe they were still made of wood.

    • Thank you for commenting Sharmishta Basu. The first sentence of the quote came to me in my dream I only needed to finish it.

      I’m still reading your “Black Mist and other short Stories”. I like their crispness and surprising endings. The last one was rather longer: about the love potion.

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