Shaken Not Stirred

Monday, March 14, 2005


I've recently been keeping a written record of my dreams. My friend Saritha asked me to join her and another friend in keeping this dream journal, so I agreed. One the first day, I could only remember just a little bit of my dreams. But as I made a conscious effort to remember my dreams, I began remembering more.
The only problem is, my dreams make no sense. They don't even make sense to me. For instance, I had a dream that I saw two old high school classmates, Peggy O'Neil and Cindy Fox drinking at an outdoor bar. Cindy started to tell me how dangerous being a high school teacher was--she babbbled and in my dream, I made a conscious effort to block her out. Anyway, I haven't seen either of them since graduation, so I don't know why I dreamed about them.
I was telling Saritha that if anyone found this diary hundreds of years from now, they would think our generation of people very weird, if they based society on my dreams.
I wonder if dreams really mean anything at all, or if they are just figments of our inner thoughts. I haven't figured it out yet. And after reading over the snippets of my dreams that I do remember, if hope that my inner thoughts are a little more substantial than that.


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