Althouse: "At dawn my lover comes to me/And tells me of her dreams..."

१ जुलै, २००९

"At dawn my lover comes to me/And tells me of her dreams..."

"With no attempts to shovel the glimpse/Into the ditch of what each one means..."

Almost no one bothers to interpret dreams anymore. Bob Dylan's sneering seems archaic now.

९ टिप्पण्या:

rhhardin म्हणाले...: Interpreting dreams just prolongs the telling event unnecessarily.

She'll be mad at you all day for what you did in her dream as it is.; १/७/०९, ६:४२ AM
The Crack Emcee म्हणाले...: "Almost no one bothers to interpret dreams anymore."

What would be the point? A dream's a dream. People, imagining there's something more to them - and/or trying to make them reality - is the nightmare.; १/७/०९, ६:४५ AM
KCFleming म्हणाले...: "Almost no one bothers to interpret dreams anymore."

Save for Obama. Or Ayers. Whomever. ; P; १/७/०९, ६:४६ AM
KCFleming म्हणाले...: My older sister once told a bunch of us about her dream the night last, in which she was frightened by a giant earthworm.

I did my damned best not to say 'how Freudian', or even to smile. One of few times diplomacy bested my Irish wise-ass tendency.; १/७/०९, ६:५० AM
AllenS म्हणाले...: Fish Nipples.
by
AllenS

Blows on harmonica: ♪ ♫ ♪ ♫

Shirtless elephant
says to the telephone pole
who did you vote for
the elevator shaft opines
you don't want hay bales

Blows on harmonica: ♪ ♫ ♪ ♫

Dang! If only I could sing.; १/७/०९, ६:५४ AM
sakredkow म्हणाले...: What a great line that is though. Guy knew a thing or two about the sound of a lyric and a line.

I practice lucid dreaming, which is more interesting to me than interpretation. Trying to do something with your dreams seems more productive than trying to understand them.; १/७/०९, ६:५६ AM
traditionalguy म्हणाले...: Dreams are the raw material for freudian pasychoanalytic theory. The mind works at night on all sorts of problems and hurts we encounter all day long. I suspect that is why people take narcotics, like Michael Jackson did, to get their minds to stop working a while. Most of our religious traditions are attempts to calm and direct this battle field in our minds. Peace is a state sought by most religious traditions. Abuse is easy and powerful when a guru can control the images and the suggestions in minds with mass media. The "Big Lie" technique is still used because it still works. "Global CO2 Crisis" anyone? The free speech antidote of opposing ideas and arguments only works when media access is allowed, such as uncensored internet. In China the internet tool is censored, and giving out Bibles is a crime. In fact all suppression of freedom starts with targeting the Judeo-Christian scriptures for elimination.; १/७/०९, ७:०८ AM
Wince म्हणाले...: With no attempts to shovel the glimpse
Into the ditch of what each one means

And digging our way out of that deep hole will take time, patience and some tough choices.; १/७/०९, ९:४३ AM
$9,000,000,000 Write Off म्हणाले...: Samuel Coleridge seems apt:

Ere on my bed my limbs I lay,
It hath not been my use to pray
With moving lips or bended knees ;
But silently, by slow degrees,
My spirit I to Love compose,
In humble trust mine eye-lids close,
With reverential resignation,
No wish conceived, no thought exprest,
Only a sense of supplication ;
A sense o'er all my soul imprest
That I am weak, yet not unblest,
Since in me, round me, every where
Eternal Strength and Wisdom are.

But yester-night I prayed aloud
In anguish and in agony,
Up-starting from the fiendish crowd
Of shapes and thoughts that tortured me :
A lurid light, a trampling throng,
Sense of intolerable wrong,
And whom I scorned, those only strong !
Thirst of revenge, the powerless will
Still baffled, and yet burning still !
Desire with loathing strangely mixed
On wild or hateful objects fixed.
Fantastic passions ! maddening brawl !
And shame and terror over all !
Deeds to be hid which were not hid,
Which all confused I could not know
Whether I suffered, or I did :
For all seemed guilt, remorse or woe,
My own or others still the same
Life-stifling fear, soul-stifling shame.

So two nights passed : the night's dismay
Saddened and stunned the coming day.
Sleep, the wide blessing, seemed to me
Distemper's worst calamity.
The third night, when my own loud scream
Had waked me from the fiendish dream,
O'ercome with sufferings strange and wild,
I wept as I had been a child ;
And having thus by tears subdued
My anguish to a milder mood,
Such punishments, I said, were due
To natures deepliest stained with sin,--
For aye entempesting anew
The unfathomable hell within,
The horror of their deeds to view,
To know and loathe, yet wish and do !
Such griefs with such men well agree,
But wherefore, wherefore fall on me ?
To be beloved is all I need,
And whom I love, I love indeed.; १/७/०९, १:११ PM