True Fact: stories about dreams are mostly boring to other people. This however, won’t stop me telling you about my dream. Anyhoo, I dreamt I gave birth to a tiny demonic grey Gumby-looking thing I imagined was a golem (I know, golems aren’t born, nor are they usually tiny). It rested in the palm of my hand, and I blew on it to keep it warm, then it kinda flew outa my hand and ran away very quickly.
Later, against a full moon, giant iron moths fired laser weapons at me as I a scampered around rocky hills in a desert. After that some one a bit like Ralph Macchio (I know right, weirdest bit of all) was with me as we tried to high jack a train. As you do. Not as weird as a China Mieville novel, amirite, but still memorable. Copyright on giant iron moths I reckon.
When people say follow your dreams, I’m not imagining they mean I should take this dream literally.
What does it all mean? Births in dreams are not usually literal. They are about new projects or creations or relationships. Golems, whatever they have been, are beings made to serve humans. What am I making that best serves me, could be the question I’m asking of myself. Or I’m haunted by traumatic memories of watching bad animations.
I write things. And I’m working on one big project. Mainly the things I write are created out of amorphous ideas and deliberate research and a lot of unknowing lifeless stuff. Me typing makes it come together as words on the page so in the end a story lives. It’s maybe unknowable how it happens in the brain, what with synapses bursting into action and connecting things. But the thing I create is independent of me when its done, but is of me. It’s mine and not mine at the same time. It becomes itself and is both like and unlike everything else and will remind others of whatever is in their heads and lives.
Writing breathes life into an idea, it makes it live in other people, its contagious. Ideas are viral and have always been best conveyed amongst humans through song, story and pictorially. This is partly why I could write essays about physics but not derive formulae in high school. It’s why I know all of the words to Eye of the Tiger (and I really loathe that song), but can’t remember much about maths.
So much writing is a subterranean thing, not just personally psychological but mythological. There are overt plans and deliberate decisions, sometimes even a scaffold is built and a design is in place, but so much stuff appears out of what Jung would call the collective unconscious, or Guenon the supra-consciousness, or out of the eternal, like Athene out of the head of Zeus, fully formed.
The word demon is freighted with meaning too. It derives from ancient Greek and their many and complex understandings of the daimonion or daemon include the idea more akin to angels or higher selves or even an inner voice (like Socrates heard), or beings midway between gods and mortals, supernatural entities that can help or hinder humanity but are not evil. The notion of demon = evil is a much later Christian invention. What my dream is telling me is that I create my own higher self, or when I create (give birth to a story) I am following the inner voice or guide and I can make stories live, but they may have their own life. Or while I think I create I am merely enacting something that is created through me. Or I have a higher self and I can follow or not.
If not I will be shot at by Giant Iron Moths(TM). Probably.