Last night I had the strangest dream; I was staying at a hostel in Stockholm, Sweden – which was landlocked inside of Spain. Somehow, in my dream, I knew perfectly that Stockholm was the capital of Sweden. Admittedly, don’t know if I would’ve been able to recall that while conscious – don’t hate me Sweden, I swear most Americans know the name of your capitol.
I walked through the twisted hallways of my living quarters and the building, but each hallway twisted and flipped like an indefinite repetition of fractals (Google: fractals if ya aint up on it) so they were hard to navigate and get around. With me was my tall, pale, British friend with the THICK as molasses british accent I met in Istanbul. His voice was British NPR worthy, it was perfect.
We crawled and climbed our way out of the green-blue fractal caverns to the lobby of the hostel where I encountered my Cross-Cultural Literature TA from Madison – who for some reason was working the front counter. We exchanged quick hello’s and I was out the door to scope out Stockholm.
When I got outside the sun was setting and it was absolutely gorgeous. Fall weather, crisp leaves falling, golden rays of light piercing through thick foliage. I remember seeing a park bench and taking a quick snapshot of it with my digital camera. After taking the picture, I realized I had been here before.
Upon waking up and thinking about it, the exact picture I took in my dream …I realized I had actually taken. It was taken in Istanbul, when I was climbing the Buyuk Ada Island’s peak to see the old Basilica. I remember the exact scenery from the picture in my dream to a moment when I stopped to a picture while hiking. This was the picture…
Significance ? Or completely arbitrary neuron firing, resulting in some vague image recollection?
I like to think dreams spell out some sort of significance beyond a completely random assembly of images and ideas from days previous. Sometimes even the crazy ones. I think too many times we can’t comprehend what our own brains are telling us.