20 March 2013

+JMJ+

These Dreams: Many Mansions

When I'm working on a project that means a series of posts, such as Locus Focus features (Back in April, I swear!) or the rounds of a bracket smackdown, I like separating related posts by stuff that has nothing to do with them. It's the little bit of blog management I actually do.

Sometimes I don't succeed--and you don't have to look further than the end of last January to see not one, but two big fat failures. =P

There may yet be a similar outcome to the "Two or Three" Book Club readalong of Pope Benedict XVI's Jesus of Nazareth . . . but not without a fight. That's the main reason you're getting this filler. So indulge me, okay?



It breaks my heart that I can't love you, Neil Finn.

A few nights ago, I dreamed I was in the ballroom of a centuries-old palace which had, in the hands of new owners, become the lobby of a modern luxury hotel. It was lit up warmly and beautifully because outside it was night.

I was a guest in the hotel and I was looking for someone else who was staying there. It wasn't clear who he was; I just knew that I'd know him when I saw him. So I wandered from gorgeous room to gorgeous room, and even over the exquisitely manicured grounds, in search of him. The further I got from the hotel's main building, the darker it got--but that was a deliberate effect rather than a flaw: each walled garden had its own special character . . . and its own special lighting. The one I remember best had an artificial oblong pond taking up most of the space (so I could only walk around it, close to the tall hedges that were its walls) and was lit by dazzlingly bright torches.

Before I got to the very end, I decided to turn back to the hotel. But I didn't enter by the same door through which I had come out--and the second door led me through a startlingly different part of the building. This time, instead of space and privacy and discreet people minding their own business (you know, the sort of thing I really like), there were narrow corridors, crowded rooms with no doors, and cheerfully noisy people shoving beds together, climbing into them, and working out how to share pillows and sheets with two or three to a mattress. It was like one big slumber party.

When I woke up, I knew exactly what the dream had meant and exactly why Crowded House's Don't Dream It's Over is the moral to take into waking life.

But if you want to play Daniel to my Nebuchadnezzar in the combox, that will be cool, too! ;-)

2 comments:

Jenny said...

All I know is dreams about buildings are supposed to symbolized ourselves. Hmmmm?

Enbrethiliel said...

+JMJ+

I've heard about that theory! I think that's why child psychologists ask children to draw buildings: to get an idea of the child's self-image.

But in this case, I have a feeling I was dreaming of the Catholic Church. =)