February 27 2014
Last night my life was a musical production, taking place on an enormous multilevel stage that constantly shifted but always contained a large amount of orange colored glass. Whether in the false windows or doors, counters or furniture, sculptures or props. I would always find myself touching or looking through it in each “scene ” of my life.
All of the musical numbers had an Indian flair to it. A sitar would start and end each song but they would always become large and theatrical with everyone involved. But not quite bollywood. Just a Bollywood flair.
I felt as though i was “me”- Melissa. But some kind of old Indian version of me from a different time. I was my daughter and my mother and myself in a trio of characters all played by me- but that morphed into the bodies of the characters as I played them. The mother was not “my” mother that I have- but a very beautiful white woman, like an old 40s movie starlet with dark hair and dark eyes. And the daughter was a young Indian girl in a little white night gown.
In a “scene” that we were all in the same room- we would switch between one another in a way that confused who was who at times. All of us daughters- two of us mothers- only the youngest in the nightgown was distinguishable.
One of us found a dress, it was, possibly the most beautiful dress I had ever seen.
(It reminded me in the dream- of a dress I wore in another dream.
A very powerful dream that in real life- I have been trying to get back to.
One of the reasons I am keeping this dream journal is to try and become lucid enough in my dreams to get back to that dream. In hindsight- that could have been a cue to become lucid- when I became aware of that- but I did not. I was too deep in this dream reality)
Anyway, “I”-as one of the characters- tried to get the dress from “me” as the other character- my daughter. The youngest- now wearing the dress. She said no. She had grown attached to it. I told her i was meant to wear that dress. she twirled and danced lightly in it and laughed and refused.
I began to fall in love with her- watching her in it. Both my mother and myself- falling for my daughter- who I would then become- to run my hands over that dress against my body.
I will not get into what happened next, as my mind tends to do things others find highly offensive- but I will say it was deeply sexual and it resulted in all three of us running out of the “room” we were in. It was as if in that moment we all ran away as the same character- in the same body- but then split in a shadowy way when we passed the orange glass doors of the room.
I then was searching for my daughter through the constantly shifting orange glass filled maze of the “set”. Singing sad words to myself and twirling in this very sad and melancholic way with a sitar playing and occasional other character joining in as I passed them by.
The set morphed into a kind of apartment/street market and each “shop/living space” was closed down and I had to peak through all the glass of the windows and doors and try to slide them open and peak into their darkly lit private insides where characters were in strange actions and had to ignore my search.
I kept searching- light on my feet in almost a dance- barefoot- navigating until I got to the end of a long section of shops/homes and a large modern day electric mall style door was in front of me. I walked through- it was modern, the walls lined with clothes and knickknacks- a consignment shop.
I was dazed, as if this wasn’t part of the “play”, wasn’t part of “my life”, but i still kept looking, But what i was looking for began to get confused.
David Bowie walked up. He said “Hello Melissa”. I felt intense relief, I ran and wrapped my arms around him. I knew him, he was someone I cared about and cared about me, but it still felt strange still…still dazed as if I was starting to forget things. He said he could help me find what I was looking for.
He then began taking me down the isles of clothes and showing me dresses and blouses and I kept saying no, no that’s not what I was looking for. But he kept showing me more and telling me how beautiful id look in them and holding them up to me and it would make me feel warm and beautiful and I slowly began to believe it was what I was looking for. He said “Everything you want is here, with me”.
I saw a dress on a rack alone- it had these gorgeous vivid deep dark orange streaks of color through it- it was sheer- almost beautiful- it was not the dress from before, and it was not my daughter, it was not what i was looking for- but perhaps the orange sparked a memory and i ran to it and began to weep- I said “this! this! I must have this David please!” And he seemed apprehensive at first. “are you sure that one?” I said yes. He took it down and handed it to me. As I put it against me I saw a big stain on the back and I stopped and began to try and rub it off, it confused me and things felt strange again
He took my arm and said, “Now to find the earrings to match, love.
I was still confused but I rest my head him as we walked , and thanked him. He was so comforting. So safe. I knew who he was in my dream- I mean I knew he was actually David Bowie- he wasn’t a different character. But he knew me and cared for me in my dream- and that felt amazingly comforting
We went to a wall of earrings, and searched. I saw earrings I actually own in real life on the wall and ignored them
He said- “oh I like these, are they too big?”- and I said “no no I like big earrings”. Then I told him how I used to think big and long earrings were so cool when I was a little girl because all the bad guys always wore big and long earrings in the 80s movies.
he laughed. I said I wore one ear full of long dangling earrings in high school because it made me feel like a Lost Boy….
which is true in real life- I did do that- and when i said that- and remembered it- I got confused again- and in hind site- yet again- I should have taken that as a cue to become lucid…but didn’t
I asked him how he got all these things and he said “People just forget them here”
He found a little box and said, “Oh Melissa look here- what about these” and I opened it to find these breath taking art deco earrings- in these rusty colors of brown and red and burnt orange. I gasped “oh they are so perfect”
When I lifted them out of the box they were at least a pound each. I felt the weight in my hand. I cant say ive ever felt weight in my dream. Like truly felt weight difference so precisely. When I handed one to him to feel- he held it and looked very puzzled.
I said- ‘yeah, weird isn’t it?’
We looked at each other, in this strange moment. I kept seeing the desert in my mind, and as if these earrings were weighted for a reason. He was looking at me as if he was thinking the same thing. Like we were now talking to one anther in our minds (and remembering it now- perhaps beginning to reveal that he was just another aspect of me in the dream)
And we both told me to put on the earrings. As I began to bring them to my ears my need to feel the weight of them became more and more intense and I felt as though it would trigger something
I poked one through the hole in my lobe and woke up.