I’ve got all this stuff rolling around in my head lately, but I can’t quite make sense of it. I can’t even see what it is, really. I feel like there’s this part of my mind that’s obscured, like I can only get a glimpse if I don’t look directly at it. I know it wants to find a way out of here, though, because I’ve been remembering my dreams lately. That generally happens only when my mind is full and can’t handle all the weird shit it produces on its own without some sort of intervention from my mouth or fingers to get it all out.
I always think I’m a great compartmentalizer until I start remembering my dreams. Then everything runs together and I realize that compartmentalization, for the most part, is bullshit. Everything is intertwined.
Anyway, I’m not really at the point in my dreams where I can tell what’s going on upstairs yet, but the dreams are coming fast and plentifully. I really need to keep a journal by my bed so that I can write down anything I remember as soon as I wake up. It all fades so quickly—I had an entire dream on the tip of my tongue this morning but as soon as I started recounting it, it escaped me. I could actually hear myself forgetting it as I spoke, and now all I remember is that I’d found a journal belonging to Carole King and unlocked the secret of who she wrote all of her sad songs about. The name was unfamiliar to me, but I don’t remember it now. I guess it doesn’t matter.
Maybe the dream was telling me that I need to get better about writing down my thoughts. Or maybe it was hinting that I shouldn’t write my thoughts down because one day someone unessential to my life will find them and share in my secrets undeservedly and then forget them, as though they don’t matter.
Maybe it was my subconscious telling me to write down my dreams.