The next dream that frequents me the most is what I call the 'plastic’ dreams in which organic matter turns to plastic. This usually consists of people turning to plastic & the earth beneath my feet turning to plastic. They mostly take place on a seashore (it’s strange but the ocean itself is one thing that never changes form), & I am on a small strip of sand. I am trying desperately to climb a cliff face to get to the top - away from the raging waters, but I keep falling back down. The plastic gets wet from the sea water and becomes slippery, making it impossible for me to get a grip. This dream is usually so vivid with its arbitrary use of colour – the ocean a fierce purple the rock face a myriad of bright primary colours: yellows, reds & blues, like it’s made out of Lego.
I often wondered what it’s all about – authenticity perhaps.
but who's - the worlds, or mine?
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