Landscapes of the mind (or summat)

It'll be interesting (to me at least) to see if I can manage to explain this without getting myself wrapped up in knots, or leaving myself sounding like I need to take a very long lie down in a darkened room. I'm not at all satisfied with how I've written this but I'm posting it all the same.

So, this is all about dreams and real life. About what goes on in my head sometimes, and finding some vivid connections with the outside world. I'll try and tell you what I mean.

My dreams (when I have them) have tended to be very strong visually, and also in terms of having quite a clearly defined sense of place: or to be more accurate, being descriptive of a certain kind of space. So much so that I often get a sense of what I assume might be described as deja vu, say when I enter a room or building, or external space for the first time. I'm definitely not saying it is deja vu though, I'm just trying to put across how strongly evocative the feeling is.

I remember three particular dreams from childhood, and when I recall one of them I always recall the other two. They're primarily visual, and full of a very loaded kind of atmosphere that is difficult to describe, so I know damn well I'll never do them justice with words. In fact, I've done drawing after drawing and painting after painting trying to capture the atmosphere of two of them in different ways (I've not gone as far as the guy in Close Encounters, I've never tried to sculpt them out of mashed potato).

Still, I'll give a very basic, cursory explanation of them. The first one was of a long road, slightly curved, and stretching into the distance in either direction. It was wide enough for a central reservation, on which I and a few other people stood. On the reservation was a curious structure, almost like scaffolding, with a couple of platforms on it. It was a beautiful late evening in summer, and everyone was in silhouette against the deep golden glow of what seemed like an eternal sunset. The atmosphere seemed to be one of timelessness - the road stretching on forever, the evening not getting any later. A sense of stillness prevailed, although there was constant flux due to cars passing and heading into the distance: this distance, what lay over the horizon, seemed mysterious and tantalizing.

The second dream revisited this from a slightly different perspective - that of me looking upon the scene more as an observer rather than a participant. The two were intricately linked though.

Aged 18 I was doing a lot of photography and stumbled, one summer evening, across a dual carriageway stretching through the countryside near home. Here was that startling effect then, since it immediately linked me with the atmosphere and space of that first dream. The late evening light, the strangely complementary feelings of stillness and motion. I stood there for ages, no doubt looking a bit odd since I remained there on the central reservation for a good while, trying to take in this huge sense of resonance.

A couple of weeks later I was out taking photographs again, and had a friend in tow. I was telling him about all this (and he was wondering what the hell I was on about), and in my enthusiasm I took him to where it had struck me as I just described. As I stood there prattling on, I suddenly felt the same strong connection to the second dream, since here I was acting more as an observer, and from a slightly different angle. Not that I told my mate about this, he thought I was mad enough already.

Now I'm not trying to suggest any element of precognition to the above. I'm sceptical about such things. For me it's more about happening upon the kind of places or events which one has a predisposition towards. Not the best analogy here, but I see it in the same way that you can meet someone and feel like you've known them for years; or the way that a few notes of music can completely change your mood and demand your whole attention, because they connect with something within you.

If they carry any meaning I think it will be within the realms of the purely personal and symbolic, rather than carrying any objective truth.

The third dream was different: it had a similar atmosphere, the golden glow of the late evening sun and what have you, but it was in an entirely different place. It was more of an urban space, a number of tall, shiny, glass buildings quite close together in a certain formation. Another link is the scaffolding-type structure which was evoked this time in the buildings themselves. As with the other two dreams, it has remained with me since childhood. It too has an atmosphere, something very loaded, which is hard to describe.

A couple of weeks ago I was walking through town on my way home from work, and suddenly found myself looking up at a spot where some building work is in a state of near-completion. Once again things suddenly slotted into place: the space created by this building and the ones which loom nearby, are immediately and vividly evocative, and I now cannot walk there without this other dream coming straight to mind. It's just as startling, and it's odd to have something trigger off a recollection of the workings of my subconscious mind stretching back more than three decades.

Like I say, it may be silly looking for any objective meaning in this, but I'm still bound to wonder about it on a personal or symbolic level. As I wander through there I wonder why this place carries such a resonance, why I've only just become aware of it, and whether I can do anything useful with that information.

Bathroom

The leaves against the wall outside always look particularly nice at this time of year, so I took a photo of them.

Pressing problems for trousers

Thankfully the preoccupations that have plagued me this week are fading into the background, at least for now: the very fact of publishing the previous post - cryptic as it was - helped a little, as did actually talking to someone: and, not least, being a little easier on myself.

Besides there are far more pressing problems to deal with: The Staff Party.

This takes place tonight, and I'm wondering whether to go or not. Aside from the whole concept of office parties, the first question I'm asking myself is, do I really want to spend any more time than is absolutely necessary at my workplace? Given that I'm inclined to paraphrase (or steal from) dj kirkby and rename it The Chateau of Despair, do I really want to spend my Friday evening there?

Here are a few pros and cons:

There's free food and booze (though apart from a couple of exceptions I've not really been bothered about drink lately).

Regardless of my feelings about work itself, I do like many of the staff, overall they're a good bunch (regardless of their feelings about me).

I'm still shaking off a few residual symptoms of the bug I had earlier this week.

I don't really want to get pissed in front of my work colleagues. I'd be happier acting(?) like a boring old fart. Plus if I do drink more than I should, I might start speaking The Voice Of Truth and find myself treading The Path To A P45 (however long it takes, I'd much rather leave work than be sacked). Chances are if I did get pissed I'd speak unintelligible rubbish, but the possibility still remains.

I've got so many other wild and amazing things I could be doing (well, that's technically true, if not especially likely).

Advice is welcome, though by the time anyone reads this, the probability is I'll have already set myself on a course of action (or inaction). I'll report back. And who knows, before the month is out I might even have delivered on my threat to post my "Landscapes of the mind" scribblings.

Navel Gazing

This week, I've not felt very eloquent.
I've been very insular and unsociable (extended conversations with representatives from British Gas don't count).
I've felt very frustrated: necessary change feels as distant (and challenging) a prospect as it ever did.
Old habits and patterns of behaviour are as ingrained as they ever were.

Something calming (but not in tablet form)

I've just spent half the evening wrapping myself in knots (or notes) trying to write a post which has so far proved beyond my capabilities. Weird stuff about dreams, the landscapes of the mind and how they resonate with external experiences and events - you know exactly what I'm talking about don't you.

Sod it, I've given up on that for tonight at least: I might have been a bit too ambitious. I may return to it though (consider that a threat as much as a promise).

Instead, for my benefit more than anything, here's a nice calming photograph (with only a hint of disquiet).

Walking with Pixie

Those who frequent Prada Pixie's blog might be forgiven for thinking that I've stolen some of her photographs of rather impressive scenery. I took these yesterday, having met up with Pixie for a walk.

I must admit to being scared and nervous before meeting her: I haven't met anyone Off The Internet before, since other such opportunities have unfortunately proven too difficult so far, for a number of reasons. So as I arrived at the station and stepped out onto the platform I was having to make sure I was breathing slowly and steadily to keep myself calm. What would I say? Would we have anything to talk about, or would we walk in an uncomfortable silence?

No such worries, I found her to be a very warm and friendly person and we conversed about life, the universe and everything over a four-hour walk. I even managed not to say anything bizarre (well, not at first anyway). It feels a very weird thing to me, meeting someone Off The Internet, but that really wasn't an issue on the day: we had a very pleasant and enjoyable time.

I shan't try and describe the walk that we did - hopefully the photos speak for themselves, plus there are authoritative descriptions on Pixie's own blog. But the scenery was great, the weather was kind to us, and I had the benefit of someone being able to give me all sorts of insights and stories about the place as though I was on a guided tour. I even managed not to fall and break my ankle, despite my best efforts on more than one occasion.

We rounded off the afternoon with a drink at a lovely pub, and if you like real ales I'd recommend a pint of Rich Ruby (notice how I remember the name of the beer but not the place names where we walked) . All in all, a very fine day was had, so thank you Pixie!

In fact the only downer was later on, courtesy of an otherwise adorable cat: I've been feeding him while his owners (or rather, staff) are away this weekend, and he chose to throw up on the carpet.
Bless him.

Pointless pursuits

I finished a college course today. I enrolled for it two weeks ago. It's work-related, and I was informed that it was compulsory. I shrugged my shoulders and enrolled.

I started a college course today - the same one, approximately two hours before I finished it. Someone had reminded me that we were due to hand one of the units in tomorrow. There are two individual units to complete, each comprising three separate parts. So, six chunks of work in the form of questions to be answered. I finished the lot in one fell swoop.

I had a method. I would read one of the questions, then look in the accompanying course book, and there was the answer in the related section. I would copy out the answer into the appropriate space on the question sheet.

With the next question I did the same thing - and so on and so forth, until I'd completed each question in each unit. It wasn't cheating: it was what we were told to do by the tutor.

So I've completed a course in an afternoon. Will I pass or will I fail? With a learning experience of this quality, I couldn't really give a shit. A pass will be as meaningless as a fail.

I haven't learned anything whatsoever, I haven't gained anything from doing this course - except for a mild sense of bemusement at having to do something for the sake of it, and which has no merits otherwise. But hey, if I pass, apparently I get a recognised qualification!

I did remind myself that at least I was getting paid for the time I spent sat in the office copying answers from a book onto a worksheet.

Ho hum.