A romantic dream in color


I heard it said in the old days it’s rare to dream in color. But I now read on the web it’s rather the opposite? I don’t know if it is true or not. My dreams usually vanish from my memory as soon as I wake up, so what they were about I only vaguely remember, and if they were in color – I’ve no idea!

But if I at any rare occasion dream in clear color, that dream has a big impact on me and I remember color dreams longer and stronger than others. Newly awake it puts me in a good mood. This can of course be due to that it often annoys me when my dreams slip out of my conscious control and thus the opportunity to reflect on them.

(I find dreams interesting to reflect on, but I have no interest in any fanciful symbolic or psychoanalytic interpretations, that is far away from my mind and way of thinking.)

Recently I had a colorful dream in pink and as it felt so strange to me when I woke I suppose such dreams doesn’t happen so often (to me). The specifically with this dream was it seemed to be only the ending of the dream that was pink: the dream – whatever it was about and whatever if it was in color or not – it ended a two- dimensional image of brightly shining pink roses that gave me a feeling of pronounced wellbeing. I remember well the two-dimensional embodiment of this image as well as its beautiful and strong color.

The other night I had another dream in color. In the dream, many people were gathered to a big feast of some kind and all were dressed in traditional folk costumes in a very clear red color. In reality, these kind of specific folk costumes that I dreamed about are usually adorned with jewelry and needlework of various kinds. But not in my dream. The suits were very simple and the dream only showed a lot of people dressed the same. But no specifics of the individuals, just groups of people moving around.

The dream were separated in two parts. In the first part, a young woman was walking on a road among others and she was on her way to meet a certain young man. The (brown) road ran between (very) green hills and lots of those traditional costume dressed people (so very red dressed) came flowing down the hills to the road in groups, all with the same goal as the woman: towards a city ahead.

The young woman, who was me but still not me, looked around for her male friend. But she couldn’t see him in the crowd of people. At a couple of times she thought she saw a glimpse of him: tall and slim and dark-haired; but no – it was not him! So she continued to follow the stream of people. But she was not one of them and she was not dressed like them.

Coming to the city (here was a leap in the dream to the second part of it) she went into a house and walked from room to room, looking for the young man she wanted to meet. In every room were many people gathered, all from the same clan or family. In a corner in one of the rooms she went through stood a group of men in dark clothes (and not red but black), looking like mafia types. One could feel they were dangerous and bad people. But they as well as all others only looked at the woman but let her passes on to the following room, not bothering her at all in her search. I had the feeling that everyone knew who she was, but that she had no connections to these people – except for the young man she was looking for.

As she continued to yet another room, I could now see her shape from the back. And I could see she was young, slim, gracile and straight-backed and walked with a princess’s dignity, integrity and moved unaffected between the people that she passed. She wore a full-length dress, so much I’m certain of and I got the impression that the dress was made in some discreet and little shiny greyish lavender-colored fabric.

When she had went through all the rooms without finding the person she was looking for, she returned the same way through all the rooms, now disappointed and with her head a little down. I looked at her, but at the same time I was her. I was her but yet not her, but I felt what she felt – and now the dream become to be permeated of a very strong and intense feeling of deeply sad grief.

I woke up from the dream in this intense and overwhelming sadness with tears in my eyes. But what was left after the grief melted away were the memory of all the red costumes and the very green hills. So despite the sadness in the dream, afterwards it was a “feel-good” dream because of its colorfulness.

So what was the dream about? Well, I know a young man who would say if he read this “oh, that’s about me” and he’s welcome to think so, I bid on that! But I know it’s not about him. It is about a romance that has not yet begun (or that has almost started) and about which one can predict – without being an omniscient unconscious dream director – it will run out into nothing… Still a strong and beautiful dream that gave courage to my soul. 🙂

 

 

 

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This entry was posted in authenticity, courage, dreaming, grief, hope, loss, love story, missing, opportunities, poems by vonnely, prose poem, romance, sadness and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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