Dreaming about water

re: everything is romantic

Notes on dreaming about water:

Water was the backdrop for my dream again last night. In my mind’s eye, I ride tidal waves that should engulf me. This happens time and time again in my dream world. In this most recent version, I was water skiing at summer camp, presumably on a lake (the body of water that I hold dearest). I wasn’t alone riding the wake; there were several of us, a middle school friend the only one defined, at least from memory. She was skiing along the water’s surface with me when the waves suddenly turned larger than life. As these dreams go, the emotion connected to the tsunami grade swells isn’t terror. I wouldn’t even characterize it as fear. It’s more like awe coupled with a readiness to lock in.  In this dream I’m still holding onto the rope that connects me to the boat pulling us and I take note of the realization that I’m stronger than I used to be. I don’t let go of the rope, which would allow me to stand on top of the water for a couple seconds before dropping and floating. Instead I keep holding on, watching and preparing for each wave as it comes my way. I don’t ever fall as the crowd on the boat becomes increasingly amazed by the energy held in this water, the energy that drives its motion. I wake up and my heart isn’t pounding. It’s steadily beating to the drum of my subconscious. I’m alive and ok. I’m completely ok. 

from @findingpoeta on Instagram

Water is the primordial element. People don’t talk about fire or air or earth being life, but they talk about water this way. As humans, our composition is mostly water. It’s an easy fact to forget. We look at our Selves and we see flesh. We aren’t visibly water, but when we close our eyes it becomes clear. Our dreams bring the clarity we lack in our waking world. I’ve read that nearly all our time we perceive as our waking experience is actually more akin to a dream, where we are going through motions but not actually connected to our Selves. So maybe the terms should be reversed. What we call dreaming is actually our most awake, our most aware of our raw essence, like when you burn sandalwood and the wood’s oil is released. You get the aroma by stripping down the wood, by transforming it through heat but not sacrificing its matter. I feel like that’s a function of our dreams (or our most alive selves, if you will): to distill us to the point of arrival. Maybe the truest version of us is coded in our subconscious, where we witness the visions that no one but our Selves create.

p.s. I’m open to dream interpretations