We’ve been asked by Oloriel to, “tell [her] a dream. A dream that was specifically striking and has etched itself into your memory.”

I have other reoccurring dreams, but this is perhaps the strangest.

Something startles me awake – a noise; a hyper-anxious dream. I listen, but only hear the cold wind flapping the white curtain windows like bird’s wings. I slid out of bed, a jolt as my bare feet touch the floor. Wait, there is no white curtained window in my bedroom. Close eyes: wake up!

Moonlight floods the attic. I clearly see an ancient battered armoire looming over me. Cloud blots moon, then in the silvery brilliance, my sleep-addled hair and groggy face in the mirror opposite. I am ashen; this is not my room. Close eyes: wake up!!

Snuggly under a paisley patterned duvet, propped upon soft down pillows.  I admire the richly polished and carved wood bedframe of filigreed ivy and winter-bare branches gleaming with dawn’s orange-fingered touch. But it’s not my bed. I scoot under the covers. Close eyes: wake up!!!

I’m in the fetal position, covers pulled off. Staring at the rod and bookshelves that make a closet. The messy maze of cast off shoes; boxes and bins; a unwashed sweater underneath. Close my eyes and roll to the left. Framed photographs; calligraphed quotes; water colours of forest and shore hang this way and that. The aging mattress perches on a wooden futon frame. Cautiously, I slip out of bed, and do further inventory. I am home. I’m up; time to make coffee.

As I wrote in an earlier post: “I experience layered dreams of awakening. In borderline rooms, I find objects that shouldn’t be there; unfamiliar positioning of windows and doors. The number of layers shifts; the transmuted rooms altered in various ways. “ “Layers”, 29 July 2015

White curtains and an open window are the only reoccurring images in these dream-cycles or sequences, but appear in random order. Sometimes the difference between my “awake” room and “asleep” rooms are slight; other times dramatic.

This story is fictionalized – written to illustrate the strangeness of these dreams. Once, I had to pass through five rooms to get to my bed and bedroom.  To be asleep when thinking awake is one of the oddest feelings. Do you experience multi-layer, multi-level “wake ups?”

Dreamt up for : Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Writing Prompt: Gifts from Mr. Sandman (16.10.16) {hosted by  Oloriel} @ my frilly Freudian slip

Now, for your listening pleasure: Mr. Sandman twice. A television performance by the Chordettes in 1958: and a later version by Anne Reburn.

live 1958

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