Dream Week | Dream Journal

DreamArt-1

Dreams are thoughts you didn’t have time to think about during the day.

My dreams have been unusually vivid lately—full of color and sound, strange and derivative, a compilation of memories and random bits of information and events. There have been recurring themes, patterns, and people.

While going through my morning routine the last few days, I noticed that a number of troubling questions and past events kept popping up. Each day, I pushed them aside, thinking, I will deal with it later.

Of course, later rarely comes, so I wonder if much of the processing that should happen while I am awake is happening while I sleep.

If I look really closely, I can see there is a correlation between my dreams and those deep questions with which I have had little time to grapple.

I am not into dream analysis, that is, looking for symbols in dreams and attaching meaning to them, but I do believe dreams can be revelatory. I believe God speaks to us in different ways, and dreams are one of those ways. I also believe dreams often reveal what is buried in our subconscious and can compel us to pay attention and maybe act.

So–I’m thinking about starting a dream journal, a place that I can record the bits and pieces of my dreams I remember and see if I can make some sense of them or if I can tease out those things that Spirit and my subconscious are trying to tell me. I’d like to see what shows up.

I’ve never “dream journaled” before, but I imagine it is telling experience.

What about you? Have you ever kept a dream journal?

Dream Week | #ThursdayTreeLove and a Musing from My Younger Self

Double Trees

Today was every bit as intense as I expected. It’s just after 9:30 p.m. in my part of the world, and I just completed my last work task for the day. As I reviewed today’s schedule last night, I knew I had to figure out something  for #ThursdayTreeLove. I had the tree, but what about my theme for the week? 

Happily, I remembered that I wrote some “dream” poems in my long-ago youth. I quickly scanned a couple of my notebooks and found three or four poems! Here’s one of them:

"Dream" [© Chandra Lynn]

Dream controls my thoughts, my actions; rules my day; eventually brings pain Like an addictive drug, a world of fantasy, a smooth path, Leading away from reality.

I was such a daydreamer back in the day, always preoccupied with my own musings and getting in trouble every now and then for not staying on task. I’d probably still spend my days in my fantasy worlds if it weren’t for pesky things like work and dishes.

I am pretty sure I wrote this poem as a creative writing assignment, but I don’t recall much more. For the life of me, I can’t remember what this type of poem is called. Google failed me. Can you help? 


About the Trees: The photo above (in black and white and color) features one of the black walnut trees on campus [donated by the Ecology Club in 2003]. I suppose, adults shouldn’t daydream their way through the workday, so I escaped to this tree for a few moments a couple of weeks ago.

I am joining Parul Thakur for #ThursdayTreeLove every second and fourth Thursday of the month. If you would like to play along, post a picture of a tree on your blog and link it back to her latest #treelove post.

Dream Week | The Rock

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Last week, in the middle of the agonizing, true-to-its reputation Monday morning, I dropped by the Associate Registrar’s office to get clarification on a particular policy. While there, I noticed the cutest tiny Zen garden. I was drawn to the sand and calming turquoise, but I fixated on the rock that held the word “dream.” An hour or so later, I sent my friend Cy a text telling her I needed to take a mental break and write a blog post, but I hadn’t decided on a theme for the week. She suggested that I do a Dream Week. Her suggestion confirmed what the “dream rock” was trying to tell me, so here we are—a week later—hosting “Dream Week” on Pics and Posts. 

If you had asked me about my dreams a couple of years ago, I might have told you I have none–if I were being honest. I came to this realization early one morning while reflecting on a statement from Howard Thurman’s “The Inward Sea,” the first section of Meditations of the Heart:

Keep alive the dream; for as long as a [wo]man has a dream in his [her] heart, [s]he cannot lose the significance of living.

I asked myself, “What are my dreams?”

Crickets.

Nothing stirred inside, and I felt like a hollow vessel.

I thought, “Have I achieved so much in life? Am I so perfectly content that there’s no need for dreams? Or have I fallen so far down the “well of despair” that I could no longer muster up the courage to dream?” 

I could have psyched myself into believing that I had no dreams per se because I’d worked my dreams into plans and plans into action. But I knew that would be cute, but not true.

I was troubled. I once had deep, colorful, audacious dreams. Where were those dreams?

The question unsettled me; for I knew without dreams I was merely existing, and that was not enough living for me. 

Then, the more critical question emerged. Why had I stopped dreaming? After I took the time to soul-search, I arrived at the answers:

I had stopped dreaming because I was afraid to dream. I had stop dreaming because I was grieving loss after loss after loss, and while I had to function on all fronts in my outer life, in the inner life I could lay it all down and no one would know. I had stopped dreaming because I was wounded and “stretched out” while I processed the blows that took me down. I had stopped dreaming because there were too many disappointments and too many devastating realities.

I had stopped dreaming so I could pour all my energy into surviving. 

It took some doing—an additional year or so of soul work—for me to trust life enough to really dream again and to know that my dreams can be as boundless and wild as my imagination allows. 

I don’t have any solid plans for this Dream Week, but that’s the nature of dreams. Join me, and let’s see where the dreams take us. 

Keep Dreaming

Art by Karen B.

Love Noters are an amazing group of people. They’re certainly my kind of people–artists and dreamers who love music, books, nature, paper, and ink. Thanks to my growing group of letter sisters, I have enough art to fill an art gallery and keep my heart full.

Today’s post features the abstracts created by Karen B, my partner for Love Notes 31, and “Dreams,” a short poem by Langston Hughes.

Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.

Art by Karen B.

Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.

Art by Karen B.

Karen’s art is beautifully understated with a bit of whimsy and seriousness at once. I’ve paired her work with Langston Hughes’s “Dream” because, like his, her work seems effortless but holds a world of complexity.

Until next time, hold fast to your dreams…

For Langston | Shatter This Darkness…Into a Thousand Lights of Sun

Today would have been Langston Hughes’ 118th birthday. Some of my Hughes books are in my [work] office; others are unfortunately buried in one of my many unpacked boxes, so I didn’t have the pleasure of revisiting my precious books and slowly inhaling the pages.

Like so many other Black poets, I fell in love with Langston Hughes through the books on my older siblings’ bookshelves. I took a course focusing on Hughes in graduate school and was sorely disappointed by the instructor’s style. He was knowledgeable but not an effective facilitator. He missed Hughes’ brilliance in his focus on the “celebrity” and ambiguity of Hughes.

I accidentally shot the “abstract” photo this morning while finishing up a letter to a friend. It pairs well with the closing lines of Hughes’ poem, “As I Grew Older.”

It was a long time ago.
I have almost forgotten my dream.
But it was there then,
In front of me,
Bright like a sun—
My dream.
And then the wall rose,
Rose slowly,
Slowly,
Between me and my dream.
Rose until it touched the sky—
The wall.
Shadow.
I am black.
I lie down in the shadow.
No longer the light of my dream before me,
Above me.
Only the thick wall.
Only the shadow.
My hands!
My dark hands!
Break through the wall!
Find my dream!
Help me to shatter this darkness,
To smash this night,
To break this shadow
Into a thousand lights of sun,
Into a thousand whirling dreams
Of sun!

–Langston Hughes, “As I Grew Older”

Many read this poem and see disillusionment. The speaker of the poem dismisses the idealism and replaces it with the realization that in America his Blackness stands as a barrier to his dream. However, there is hope here too…He has “almost forgotten” the dream, but he recognizes that thick walls of racism can be breached, toppled even, by his dark hands.

Moreover…

Dark hands united with other hands can “shatter the darkness…into a thousand whirling dreams of sun.”

November.

Today was hard.

This year has been hard.

Though it has its incredible moments, 2019 has challenged me in more ways than I can count, so  when I read the words posted by S. C. Lourie [Butterflies and Pebbles] on Instagram a few moments ago, I felt her words deep. in. my. soul.

November.
It’s gotta be about staying or becoming true to you.
About not whispering when you want to shout.
About not turning when you really want to move forward.
November is the month of now or never.
Of let your voice shake but speak anyway.
And stumble as much as you do
but still go forth in the direction
of your dreams and of your peace,
like you deserve them,
like there is more meaning to your life
than just taking orders and fulfilling tasks.
November is nearing the end of the year.
November is live out what’s in your heart.
That it’s not too late to follow after what you really want.
These days, they matter.
You matter.
Finish this year with a bang,
so next year will begin with fireworks.  —S. C. Lourie, Butterflies and Pebbles

This is the kind of thing I needed to read on this first day of November when after one more “sucker punch,” I’m on the brink of throwing in the towel and “trying again” next year. It would be so much easier to kick back and wait for the year to end, but Lourie’s post reminds me there’s still so much possibility in the remainder of the year. There’s enough time to “take this year back […] and make something meaningful of it.”


Linking up with Dawn of The Day After in the Festival of Leaves photo challenge.

I Invite You to…

Love Notes 26 just ended. Sort of. I have yet to send my response for the final prompt, but since tonight we’re dealing with the madness of my son’s finishing up his science project, I’m dropping in with my partner’s response to the first prompt: “I invite you to…”

Lynda F, who is an artist, gave me a “ticket to happiness” and collaged a beautiful invitation for the year, written by poet and artist, S.C. Lourie:

Make sure you give considerable time to your dreams this year. Believe in yourself, darling. Make a wish and let it take you on an adventure. Like flowers, may your deepest wishes and dreams blossom in your hands, and those who love you will help them blossom too.  –S.C. Lourie, butterfliesandpebbles

Thank you for these words, Lynda, and for introducing me to another “Instagram Poet.” I’ve been a little obsessed with the “Writers of Instagram” lately.

This year began with an insane amount of craziness [redundant, I know], but I’m going to be a bit more intentional this month about finding quiet moments to figure out life–a little of it at least.

Stay tuned. I’ll be blogging Love Notes from Lynda Wednesday and Friday too!

Slaying Dragons and Painting Dreams

I captured the image (above) a week or so ago when my hubby, son, and I were exploring downtown. The chair is colorful and worthy of photographing, but I was drawn to the quote.

I dream my painting and then paint my dream.  –Van Gogh

It is perfectly aligned with where my head is at the moment–planning and working toward a few goals.

A few days before encountering the chair, one of my besties and I decided to work toward completing our top three goals and report our progress to each other every week. By the beginning of week one, I was ready to slay in a serious way. By the end, I was whining inwardly that I’d made zero progress on any of my goals.

Thanks to Thanksgiving Break, I’ve had a moment or two of clarity and I’ve concluded that “goal slay” is as much about slaying the dragons that stand in our way as it is about actually achieving our goals: Dragons of time. Dragons of demands. Dragons of habit. Dragons of neglect. Dragons of doubt and fear.

The reality–life is busy and full, so we often have little time to squeeze in a new thing, goal, activity, even person. We’ve developed some patterns and routines that must change. Even our perceived good habits have to change if we are to accomplish our goals. What’s more daunting? We must sharpen our swords on our own imagined dragons before we can slay the really scary ones.

So although I’ve not checked any of the boxes directly leading to any of my goals, I’ve made significant progress on the process. I have well-defined goals and a solid plan to slay some dragons. That’s something…isn’t it?