I've mentioned this before in this Far Place, indeed more than a few times, that my night life features stunningly boring dreams. Last night was no different. I'm at an airport and I need to get home. I'm not accompanied by the Missus. I suddenly realise I have no tickets for the plane; in fact, no idea what plane I'm supposed to be boarding. I try ringing Noi to find out what flight I should be on, but can't get through. Then as I head towards where I need to check-in I awake, to my considerable relief.
Now the thing is this. Upon reflection I realise that I've had this kind of dream before, but the mode of journeying varies. It's involved going to a railway station. It's involved getting on a coach. But I'm always lost and suddenly aware that this is so. And I never get to figure out where I am, though I'm always going home.
I suppose there's some deep symbolic significance in this somewhere. To be honest, even a superficial interpretation would sort of sound deep, involving a fairly obvious existential crisis predicated on a life that lacks direction. See what I mean? And I quite like the idea of having dreams that hint at some kind of depth. But I have a sneaking suspicion that this is all just a bit of random free-floating anxiety that just related to someone who likes to be on time worried about missing an appointment. Nothing that would rouse Freud or Jung there, I'm afraid.
So still terminally dull, despite my best efforts.
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