Dream

Information:

• Source: Emperor’s New Clothes Notebook
• Key: Bb Major / G minor
• Measures: 36
• Parts: Cello and Piano
• Duration: 2:43 min
• Pages: 3

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“I’ve dreamt in my life dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas: they’ve gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the colour of my mind.” ― Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

Hello,

ABSURD IMAGES
When morning comes and I wake up, I do not usually know if I dreamt, and I prefer keeping it that way. But when I do know, I’m not interested because I hate dreaming, whether they’re agony or bliss. Dreams are a sinister human condition. The fact that my head plays a variety of absurd images without my consent while I am utterly out, it is a complete transgression, therefore, I prefer to forget the things I dream.

Ever since Sigmund Freud put the study of dreams in the map, experts had entertained the idea that in our sleep, we always dream. Perhaps that is true _ But authorities in any subject, always said things to amused themselves, believing, possibly, only half of what they proclaimed.

DIFFERENT OPINIONS
However, the real purpose of dreaming had been camouflaged; and the real reason they exist, is still subject to significant debate, and even today, after so many studies on the subject, everybody has a different opinion, nobody knows exactly why they exist and how we benefit from them.

With poetry, people try to romanticize dreams, they’ve also tried to mystified them by giving them a religious connotation. People have, at the same time, given them a place in science, saying that dreams are a group of nerve cells in the brain that work together to remind you of past experiences.

FALSE POWERS
Since the beginning of times, some people have claimed they can interpret, in a accurate way, the meaning of dreams, which is all bull manure. Based in fear, myths, delusion, or witchcraft, they try to convince others of their false super powers. Unbelievably stubborn, some people have gone as far as to write entire books dedicated to the “interpretation” of dreams.

Wether dreams are a prediction or a past experience, or weather they are a reflection of something I am going through in the present, the big question still is: What am I supposed to do in the morning with all that gibberish I had just received?, Dreams do not have any practical application in people’s lifes whatsoever. They never had, and I have a feeling, they never will.

GRAY AREA
There had been unfortunate times when I had remember my dreams, some of them were really bad dreams that I’ve felt like I am inside one of Salvador Dali monstrosity paintings or Frida Kahlo atrocious ones, where, there is no escape. Other times, my dreams have been so pleasant and so real, that it is frankly, disappointing to open my eyes to find out that it was a stupid dream.

Then again, I ask to let it be bliss and not a nightmare when I go to sleep.

Dreams twist reality, and freeze time. In my dreams there are no sounds, nor there are colors. I can go to the edge of the earth and back, before anyone misses me. In dreams, I’ve talked to strangers and to people that are already gone. In dreams, I’ve been younger and older. They’re gray, silent and cold.
What a waste!

THE COLOR OF MY MIND
I do not think dreams are necessarily harmful, they are just plain annoying. Dreams are a massive gray area that no one understands. There are people that had spent a lot of time studying them. From serious cientific reaserches to religious charlatans, and virtually everybody agrees to disagreed on the definition of dreams, but nobody knows, and I will emphasize this: NOBODY knows why they exist.

I’ve composed this gentle piece while I was reflecting in the matter, wishing to have quiet nights, free of dreams. What are dreams anyway, if not some kind of uncontrolable pest. Dreams can stay with me ever after. When they are present, could be frightening enough. I would much rather let music and poetry change the color of my mind. If only I could dream music when I go to sleep.

What is this?
by Hannah Flagg Gould

Am I dreaming? what is this?
Is it anguish?—is it bliss?
‘T is a mingling of the twain;
Doubtful joy, and certain pain;
Feeble gleams of morning light
Playing through the shades of night!
Ah! the same unconscious wing
Wafts the honey and the sting!

Quickly passing from the view
Of the mind, that’s fleeting too,
What a vast and varied crowd!
Bridal vesture; funeral shroud;
Robes of honor; weeds of wo;
Oh! the wearers, how they go!
Scarce a glimpse of each is caught,
Ere the vision turns to nought.

Well! and is there nothing more,
When the busy dream is o'er?
Ay? ’t is truth the waking brings;
’T is a world of real things:—
Nothing transient, nothing mixed;
All is clear, and all is fixed.
Be it anguish, be it bliss,
’T is no changing scene, like this!

Then, thou slumbering soul, awake!
Let these earthly baubles break,
Let the mildew blight the tree!
Here’s no fruit to nourish thee.
Up! and from the ruins haste;
Look not back upon the waste!
Up! and fasten on the prize,
That is offered from the skies!>