Yesterday morning, I awoke out of an intense dream that had what I felt was fascinating imagery. Anxious not to lose it, I flipped on the light, grabbed the message pad by the phone and scribbled, then flipped the light back off, rolled over and went back to sleep.
My handwriting is not especially legible at the best of times, but even less so when I’ve just awakened from a deep sleep and am writing on a little scratch pad while lying in bed. It says: “Dream about a man who carefully unpicks embroidery and brushes weaving smooth. When embroidery totally unpicked, he turns into an old woman who embroiders something different on the cloth using the unpicked thread.” Of course, he brushes the cloth to even the threads of the weave out to close up the holes where the embroidery needle pierced it.
One finds such interesting things washed up on the shores of sleep.