Dreaming again

I can't remember the last time I dreamt before last night. Life has been unsettled over the last 6 weeks, and I don't think I've been in a place where I could slip into the sort of routine where dreams flow.

Last night I went for drinks after work and then dinner afterwards. The usual crowd was there, including the girl I have spoken of before, Paige I'll call her. I was in good enough form despite once more being overlooked, or looked around, whatever the apt term is. It frustrated me before, made me angry sometimes, but last night it just made me feel sad - for her. I saw somehow as I had not before the torment in her soul, the battle taking place which I am the cause of. I wished I could touch her: it's okay. Instead I smiled and joked, I tried to engage her in conversation. She smile fleetingly, and at times would respond with an almost histrionic fervour to something or another somebody else might say, but overall she was subdued. I saw in her eyes the little girl inside.

I got a lift home afterwards, a car full of women, including her. My last memory of her is as the car turned her forlorn figure caught in the headlights. I could feel her sadness.

I went to bed with that, convinced that she was in love with me, and battled with - which seems the default for the women I meet. I slept, and I dreamt.

It was one of those nights where I seemed to dream all night. Occasionally I would shift in my sleep and become aware of the night beyond, of time passing in the dark, and of the fact of my dreaming.

I dreamt many times but there are two dreams that stand out in my memory now. They are strange and poignant I think, worthy of Freud or Jung.

In the first dream the phone rings and I answer to a woman's voice. Her voice was familiar, the voice of someone I knew, or should know anyway, but as I listened I could not place it. In her greeting there was that expectation of being known, expected almost, someone familiar, like those people who say "it's me" knowing that the other will know who 'me' is. I recognised that but not her voice, and did not want to let on, did not want to offend by admitting to it. "I'm sorry," I said, "I can't hear. There's a lot of noise her."

She said something again, but as she spoke there really was a banging sound in the background preventing me from making out her voice, let alone what she said. And I so I said the same thing again, and again as she spoke her words were drowned out by a sudden eruption of noise, loud voices this time, so that once more I could not hear.

The odd thing was that on neither occasion did she raise her voice against the noise, as you might have expected her to. If anything her voice began to fade, as if she was getting further away from me. Her identity was still a mystery to me, though I was nagged by the thought that I should know. And in the dream, as I stood there with the phone in my hand, there was the growing realisation that I would never know. That no matter how many times I asked something would be contrived to prevent that final connection from happening.

In another dream I am a hotel, or something similar. Though it is set in modern times there is something old world in the setting, a health spa perhaps like Thomas Mann might have written of, people collected in this one place for a common reason. I am in the breakfast room, buffets arrayed around the room with hot steaming in them. Plate in hand I meet a dark haired woman. She smiles at me as if she wishes to know me, and I smile back politely. We talk as we stand in line. She is attractive, though in a modest, unassuming way, a pleasant, good person. I am flattered by her attention, and a little surprised. Eventually we part.

Later I come across her again. This time she is in tears. I try to comfort her. Hey, I tell her, it's okay. I take her in my arms and quietly speak the words I hope will soothe her. I realise that what I had seen earlier had been a performance, a show of confidence she did not feel. This was closer to the truth, the person she was. I feel her sadness, and know without understanding that her overwhelming emotion is disappointment.

I manage to calm her down, and promise to meet up with her later for a coffee or a drink or something. She brightens at this, and once more we go our separate ways.

The appointed hour comes and she is not there. I wait and wait, pacing up and down and feeling anxious for her. Eventually I go back inside. There appears to be some group activity happening. Without thinking I join them playing cards. Just as I'm sitting it occurs to me that there has been a mix-up. I get up again abruptly, giving my cards to a grumpy old woman. I dash out and hurry to where I think this mystery woman may be waiting for me. I'm desperate not to disappoint the poor girl, and the dream ends.

There were many more dreams, but these were the most pointed of them and so I remember these best. They seem revealing too if only I knew how to read them.

There is one last little oddity. Though I can't remember all the dreams there seems to be one constant throughout all of them. In the background in each, and never once taking a central role, is the woman Paige I have written of - every other character is a stranger.

I woke a little after 5am and remained in a state of half sleep for about 30 minutes. Throughout that time I thought of the dreams and of Paige. Though the dreams did not seem particularly auspicious I felt reassured somehow. It was dark outside and I was in my bed warm and comfortable and safe. As I was to feel later in the day I felt complete in myself, but at the same time - and this is my analysis in hindsight - I had taken things outside of myself. I had removed myself from the centre of things. Throughout the dreams even when I wondered what was happening I had appeared a strong and certain character, and that's what I felt then. And I felt that strength towards Paige too, as if I could make it all good.

I don't know what any of this means, but I am dead curious.