Dream Journal

I kept a dream journal for almost three years. 

It was a writing exercise.  You keep a little notebook on the night stand next to your bed, and as soon as you wake up – either in the middle of the night or in the morning or after a nap or whatever the fuck – you just write down whatever images or dreams happen to have taken place that you can still remember and you jot them down.  Stream of consciousness-style.  Nothing fancy, nobody to impress.  This is just an exercise that supposedly should enhance your writing abilities.

So I started my journal in 2008.  And I entered dreams and crap intermittently between 2008 and early 2011.  And I never re-read these entries.  I may have glanced at them briefly right after having written them down, but I literally have not looked at them in …ever.

When your sweetheart is going thru it in hospital, first thing you have to do is grab a notebook and start recording every step of every procedure of every doctor of every blood test of every question of every fucking thing you ever had a fucking inkling of writing down.  So you grab a notebook.

And when my honey was going into surgery and I was heading there to make sure I would meet him when he woke up, I grabbed the only notebook I saw, which was my DREAM JOURNAL on my night stand. 

And while I waited for him to wake up, I read 3 years’ worth of the dreams that led up to the place where we now reside.

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