I worked all through the night in my dreams. I moved in and out of several houses toting a trunk of books. I don’t know why I had to keep moving but it all felt right. Old friends were there and they were moving too. This morning over coffee I saw that the dream was about the imagination–people carried poetry through the myopic streets of the unconscious.
That is of course a good dream. We were moving and there were no landlords.
S.K.
Planet of the Blind 
I swear that I haven’t been dreaming of anything much at all lately, and your posting of that lyrical, carefully crafted dream was the last straw. I filed a strong complaint with my subconscious, and the next morning, I realized that I’d had some dumb dream where Gomez (Raul Julia) and Morticia (Anjelica Houston) came to visit. I’d watched a snippet of the Addams Family movie at my mom’s house on Thanksgiving Day, and I feel like this dream was just very quickly slapped together for purposes of easy appeasement. It was the product of a missing-in-action subconscious, and it’s pretty darn annoying, let me tell you.
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I’ve had some pretty weird dreams myself lately, which I enjoy. A lot of times my dreams are very typical; and for that reason I sometimes confuse my dreams with reality, and reality with my dream.
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