{Dreams of Lines and Landscapes: (2) The [London Railway] Line (North Downs)}[5th May 1986]

[Redbook3:7-8][19860505:2012c]{Dreams of Lines and Landscapes: (2) The [London Railway] Line (North Downs)}[5^th May 1986]

19860505.2012

[continued]

The London to [local town] railway line, where it passes Southwards through the North Downs, branches in my dreams (but not in actuality, or at least not in quite the same fashion) into a number of long quarry-type single lines of normal or narrow gauge, taking different courses along the same narrow valley, often coming close to each other and to the main line, but leading invariably to dead ends. In my dreams I generally take the wrong one, and end up with my line getting smaller and smaller and eventually petering out on an overgrown path beside a river with sections of the bank missing (for example). I suppose that this could be because I am travelling Southwards instead of Northwards, although I do not recall the point occurring to me until now.

(I have, I think, written in the last Volume about the significance of railway symbols in dreams and in waking life.)*

*[[Redbook2:351][19841118:1935b]{Symbolic Lines}[18^th November 1984]]

[continues]

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{Dreams of Lines and Landscapes: (1) The [Preserved Railway] Line ([near C]}[5th May 1986]

[Redbook3:7][19860505:2012b]{Dreams of Lines and Landscapes: (1) The [Preserved Railway] Line ([near C]}[5^th May 1986]

19860505.2012

[continued]

The [Preserved Railway] Line in its unrestored parts north of [GJ], but particularly at [J]: I have had these dreams for years, since long before I became consciously aware of the symbols and patterns which now pre-occupy me, and long before the […] Railway Preservation Society considered extending northwards. In these dreams the track is being relaid, although sometimes on a different alignment with new earthworks etc., and in some dreams a connection is made with the wider British Rail network – at [J [near C]]. I am usually, however, involved only as an observer.

[See final paragraph and footnote in next entry.]

[continues]

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{Dreams of Lines and Landscapes}[5th May 1986]

[Redbook3:7][19860505:2012]{Dreams of Lines and Landscapes}[5^th May 1986]

19860505.2012

I thought that I had written this before: but as I cannot find it, I take the risk of setting it down here (the risk being that it will be different this time!).

In my dreams I frequently revisit certain landscapes, to a greater or lesser extent based on actual ones. So far as I remember them, they are as follows.*

*[See next three entries]

[continues]

[PostedBlogger27092015]

]{A Dream: Northwards}[4th May 1986]

[Redbook3:6][19860504:0141d]{A Dream: Northwards}[4^th May 1986]

19860504.0141

[continued]

(4)* The journey to Scotland: talking too much initially, as I realised from the reaction of the girl I was with; later, recognising the landscape near our destination (which I do not recognise from waking experience).

*[See last three previous entries]

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{A Dream: A Spiritual Warning}[4th May 1986]

[Redbook3:6][19860504:0141c]{A Dream: A Spiritual Warning}[4^th May 1986]

19860504.0141

[continued]

(3)* Giving (or?? being given) a warning of a serious and spiritual kind to a person – from behind whom a moment later I saw a figure emerge and walk away, in the shape of a human-sized pig walking on its hind legs. When I awoke, this last image seemed to me to represent the casting out of a devil.

*[See last two previous entries]

[PostedBlogger25092015]

{A Dream: Teaching and Learning}[4th May 1986]

[Redbook3:6][19860504:0141b]{A Dream: Teaching and Learning}[4^th May 1986]

19860504.0141

[continued]

(2)* Being on a cliff ledge, facing out, high above a crowd, arms outstretched, in a teaching position**; but at the same time learning from someone in a similar position slightly higher on my right, whom I questioned.

*[See last previous entry]

**[But see next two entries.]

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{A Dream: Learning to fly}[4th May 1986]

[Redbook3:6][19860504:0141]{A Dream: Learning to fly}[4^th May 1986]

19860504.0141

(DREAMS)

A brief record of dreams on four successive nights, up to this morning:

(1) Learning to fly: not, as in conventional accounts, attempting to fly (in order to escape?) and failing; but learning to fly and, in an elementary way, beginning to succeed.

[PostedBlogger23092015]

{Vanity}[25th March 1986]

[Redbook3:5][19860325:0153b]{Vanity}[25^th March 1986]

19860324/25.0153

[continued]

While writing this I have been distracted by images of pure vanity – of myself reading this first passage of my new volume to to amazed acquaintances*. These images, which mislead dangerously, also shatter concentration.

*[!]

[PostedBlogger22092015]

{TRUTH} [25th March 1986]

[Redbook3:1-5][19860325:0153] {TRUTH} [25^th March 1986]

[Hunter]

(Book, Volume III)

19860324/25.0153

To the question: 'What is Truth?' the reply can only be: 'TRUTH IS' – that is, Truth is what is. The similarity to I AM – I AM THAT I AM* – suggests strongly that God and Truth are One.

A distinction between the Artist and the Craftsman may be discovered using this concept of Truth. If a man sets out to write a novel which, he predicts, will tell 'The truth about … (say, Poverty in Britain Today), the likelihood is that he will not write The Truth (or even, Truth). This is because Truth is not about anything – it just is. In practical terms, the writer's will to tell the truth about something reveals his pre-existent view of what the truth is, and his desire to control the truth, to turn his arts to his own ends. This is the approach of the Craftsman – in whom, of course, there will be something of the Artist. The Artist, on the other hand – in whom, of course, there will be something of the Craftsman – seeks truth in his Art: he does not try to use Truth, but allows Truth to use him, albeit imperfectly.

*[Exodus 3:14, KJB/AV, literally translated as “I shall be what I shall be”; also rendered as “I am he who is.” (e.g. NJB)]

[PostedBlogger21092015]

{The Man Made of Glass}[23rd September 1985]

[Redbook2:372[19850923:0048c]{The Man Made of Glass}[23rd September 1985]

19850923.0048

[continued]

This entry had been meant to be in a new book I have bought for this 'journal', since I had intended to comment more directly on current matters in the outside world; but the entry seemed more appropriate to this volume; I may find it harder to change than I think (or rather, I may find the change does not occur as I expected).

I was, however, struck by the necessity, in writing, to live into the good and the terrible among the actions of men, not in the third person but in the first person of my narrator, Y, the man made of glass. So terrible are some of the things that this implies that I do doubt the possibility of ever publishing them even on our own, which in turn casts doubt on [the] acquisition of printing equipment; but these doubts are better left to resolve themselves.

So far as current affairs are concerned, all comments in retrospect seem to miss the point; the question is whether, or to what extent, a commitment to truth (in the sense, perhaps, of the ultimately objective) can avoid the viewpoints and prejudices which arise from material involvement.

* S[E-T] once told me (re [1]) that schizophrenics(?) (or was it some other mental disease?) commonly believe themselves to be made of glass. <880325>

[PostedBlogger20092015]

[cf the prologue to [0] (which was almost certainly what gave rise to S[E-T]’s comment, as she read a draft): ‘I become clear glass: invisible, inaudible, I am perceived only through the vision in me of that which is beyond me, or with an indefinable touch. But the vision shifts, redefining reality....’ <20200604>]

[& cf [[Redbook5:267][19880808:2229c]{Separation and Forgetfulness}[8th August 1988] <20180924>]

[& cf [Redbook7:4-5][19900102:1645]{A Secular Church in a Religious World (2) [continued]}[2nd January 1990]<20200817>]

[The Times article of 16/12/85, ‘When Freedom is a life sentence. The tragedy of schizophrenia: keeping patients in the community can tear their families apart’ inserted here in the ms is discussed & extracted at [Redbook4:230-232][19871215:2232]{Schizophrenia (2)}[15th December 1987]ff <20210618>]

                                                                                                                                                  [InsertedBlogger20210618]

[End of Redbook2]

{A Dream: 'Your gaston father's dead.'}[23rd September 1985]

[Redbook2:371[19850923:0048b]{A Dream: 'Your gaston father's dead.'}[23rd September 1985]

19850923.0048

[continued]

This morning I dreamt that [W] answered our white (private) telephone and I heard and saw her saying 'Oh, no!', followed by silence as she listened, and I knew that someone had died; following the phone call she turned to me in tears and said (I think) 'Your gaston father's dead.' The second word is spelt as I heard it; I did not see it and do not know how it should be spelt. It might have been (for example) 'gassed-on'.

My Godfather, [LN], died in October 1986 – quite unexpectedly, by me at least. The word 'gast' is related to the meaning 'ghost' (or 'spirit'?) – as, indirectly, may be the word 'gas'. <870813>

My father died on Sunday 21^st September 1997. I was told on Monday 22^nd September. [W] took the phone call. <20020201>

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{A Dream: Return through the Tunnel [continued(4)]}[23rd September 1985]

[Redbook2:371[19850923:0048]{A Dream: Return through the Tunnel [continued(4)]}[23rd September 1985]

19850923.0048

A postscript to the last [previous] entry is that I later learnt that [S[G]] had made but not signed a new will, drawn up with her brother [N[G]]; a much older one therefore operates. So far as I know nothing would have come to us from either will. The incomplete will, however, could explain the paper left behind and containing notes – seen as musical notes, but possibly symbolising money notes: i.e. a will represented as paper with pound notes written on it. I don't recall ever dreaming about money directly.*

I am rather afraid, however, that my** anger in the dream might have been connected with being left out; I hope not.

*{Except for literary prize cheques; and once, in Scotland, of a cheque being sent to compensate over the flat.}

**But was it my anger? <880325>

***[Worth mentioning here I think that [S[G]] had been close to the immediate family for as long as anyone could remember.]

[PostedBlogger18092015]

{A Dream: Return through the Tunnel [continued(3)]}[6th August 1985]

[Redbook2:367-371[19850806:2138c]{A Dream: Return through the Tunnel [continued(3)]}[6^th August 1985]

19850806.2138

[continued]

Given the several* retrospectively-recognised symbols of death, some previously encountered (like the tunnel with light at the end) and some not so but logical (like the collapsing face with dominant dark eyes), it is a matter of distress – if any connection can be made – that such acute conflict should have been felt. There are a number of possible reasons for this: the mood in which I went to bed; my present concentration on material things (possibly leading to fear of death); and my father's suggestion a few years ago that relatives would think (as I believe at least one has) that we were friendly with [S[G]] because we wanted to be left money. This last suggestion did produce acute conflict in me: I hated the idea of being thought motivated by this desire, could not bring myself to stop seeing [S[G]] simply for fear of that opinion, and of course (once the suggestion had been made) could not visit [S[G]] without worrying about it. I should be delighted to be left money by anybody, but have no expectation of it from [S[G]]: we recently and deliberately asked her to witness our signatures on the lease of the flat to us, explaining to her that by completing the purchase we would be financially enabled. But this rather poisonous suggestion by my father did produce conflict [in me] and may have affected the tone of the dream.**

The appearance of the face (if there is any connection) might also be thought distressing, except that it was only the material face which was collapsing: the eyes, as windows perhaps to that which was within, had grown in importance, and X was alert and aware and communicative, if rather forceful. It might be a logical corollary of my present (and temporary) materialistic pre-occupations that I should see a spiritual process such as Death, in happier times seen spiritually, now in its material aspect primarily, and fear it materialistically, producing the acute sense of conflict.

It's an unfortunate fact that although my time at [the Trade Association] – and I suppose before that at [the Accountants] – produced personal conflict, partly arising out of my unwillingness to commit myself wholly to the work, being self-employed raised the stress levels by necessitating exactly that personal commitment. <930110>

*[See entry before last previous entry.]

**[Worth mentioning here I think that [S[G]] had been close to the writer and his immediate family for as long as anyone could remember.]

[continues]

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{A Dream: Return through the Tunnel [continued]}[6th August 1985]

[Redbook2:367-371[19850806:2138b]{A Dream: Return through the Tunnel [continued]}[6^th August 1985]

19850806.2138

[continued]

During the day [W] and I were both greatly depressed, and [d] was fractious and unhappy. I thought about the dream* quite a lot, since it seemed significant, but could make little sense of it. Only three people that I could recall have used our copier, and all within the last few weeks: my mother for copying the particulars of her house, [TM]** for copying letters to agents and her curricula vitae, and my elderly cousin [SG] for copying the sales notes printed by the publisher of her nephew [IG]'s book. They have all done so with our encouragement, naturally without charge, and I have certainly never thought of them as stealing copies. However, I have strong feelings about the making of unauthorised copies of copyright material, which I regard in most cases as a form of theft, and I have on several occasions seen copies of printed sheet music being made in our local copy shop. Presumably publishers' notes are copyright, although I am sure that the publisher would have been delighted.

A couple of hours ago my mother rang to say that [S[G]] had been found dead in her house this morning by the cleaner. Although long-expected, this is a very sad thing as [S[G]] was one of the very few of our relations with whom [W] and I had an excellent understanding: we shared a similar view of the World and sense of humour, and I shall miss her very much. When [d] was born six weeks ago, [S[G]] unexpectedly appeared at the hospital, dressed up for the occasion, and spent some time with us watching and discussing [d]; and she came to see [d] once again, when she made the copies. She could be quite forceful on matters of opinion; but she always kept her sense of humour, giving (for example) at the hospital a superb imitation of my mother walking down the street, which did not amuse my mother.

*[See last previous entry]

**{(later [d]'s Godmother)}

[continues]

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{A Dream: Return through the Tunnel}[6th August 1985]

[Redbook2:366-371[19850806:2138]{A Dream: Return through the Tunnel}[6^th August 1985]

19850806.2138

A somewhat unpleasant dream this morning (whose unpleasant tone may have been partly due to having gone to bed with an acute (although temporary) feeling of emotional frustration which could only be alleviated by complete silence:

[W] and I were in a dark enclosed area. I went forward to our photo-copier (which was against one side of the area) saying angry words to the effect of: 'X has been stealing our copies', or 'Not content with stealing our(?) copies, X has....', or 'Not content with..., X has been stealing our copies'. I knew at that time who X was but I did not and cannot relate X to any person I know. I saw on the ground in front of one end of the copier some sheets which X had dropped: they were covered with musical notes. This might be how I knew that X had 'stolen' copies. I knew that X would come back.

It became apparent that the dark enclosed area in which we were standing took the form of a high curving arched tunnel, rather like (for example) York [Railway] Station: as I moved across this, I could see light beyond the end of the tunnel ahead of us and figures moving in the light beyond the end. As I expected, X did come back from among those figures, down the other side of the tunnel – the side on which I now stood (I think that [W] was still with me), away from the copier. X was a small person, with an extraordinary face: the face was hollow and distorted, and its prominent feature was its huge eyes, which were on slightly different levels (if I recall rightly) and seemed like mauve or purple rings around pools of blackness*.

I sensed even more acute conflict than before; X was now between me and the tunnel wall, and I said to X (as much in desperation as in anger) 'How did I know (?it was you)?' The answer – which I thought at the time was mine to X, but I can recall no evidence for** this belief – came with great force, even anger: 'Because you're a psychic, you fool!' (or, ?'You fool, because you're a psychic!'). I was now next to the tunnel wall and between X and the light from which X had returned: the sense of conflict rose to a high point as X's extraordinary collapsed face with its huge eyes advanced towards me, back up the tunnel.

At this point I made a decision, became completely calm, and raised a barrier between me and the face: a simple square Cross of slender rods, + , which stretched from top to bottom and side to side of my field of vision: the face disappeared and I woke up with exactly the same sense of complete calm, and lay in bed for a while, reflecting.

*There is a near-image of these eyes, so far as I recall them (but perhaps with a slightly lighter hue), in Gleick's 'Chaos: Making a New Science', Heinemann, 1988...: facing p.172, a colour photo of the Lorenz Attractor (Phase-Space Diagram). <880803>

**[i.e. in support of.]

***[X is as originally written, not the same person referred to as [X] in other entries in order to disguise the actual name]

[continues]

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{A Dream: of a Tornado}[7th July 1985]

[Redbook2:365[19850707:1233b]{A Dream: of a Tornado}[7^th July 1985]

19850707:1233

[continued]

I awoke, recounted the dream to [W], and fell asleep again, to dream again: After some preliminaries which I do not recall (about a hotel reception desk in an old wooden building?), I saw approaching on the horizon a huge bank of cloud or dust and, in the middle of it, a dark twisting column, which I identified as a tornado*: it rumbled continuously as it came towards us. I went back with [W] towards our ramshackle old wooden house** – part of a converted set of farm buildings – telling her to go in and shut all the windows***. I ran across to our neighbour, across the courtyard – an elderly bearded man looking out of his windows – and told him to shut his windows; I had the impression that he doubted the need for this, but that he went to do so anyway. Back inside our house – I have the impression of great oak beams and wooden walls, rather dark and warm – we watched the tornado roar past along the road a hundred yards or so away and slightly up hill, moving on down the road towards the lower lands in the South.

After some time my mother appeared driving her Volvo, which was covered in wet and ?leaves etc., up the road from the South. She said that she had been alright because the tornado when it entered the valley had left the road and moved alongside it; I had (or have) the impression of immense devastation; and there was something about a particular household being O.K. because the tornado had hurled trees to crush the part of their (similarly wooden) house which they did not live in but left their own part undamaged.****

*(I had been reading about tornadoes in the New Scientist a few weeks ago.)

**(On 6/7/85 I have date-stamped 'received' a photo of such a building from a [client] member in Japan, which was near-missed by a flood due to a typhoon.)

***(This is odd: isn't the trick to open all windows in a hurricane, to avoid blow-outs due to pressure difficulties?)

**** (These two dreams [i.e this and the last previous] should perhaps be read together.]

[The Great Storm or cyclone of October 1987 largely destroyed the woodlands on which [C] is situated, where by that time [M] was living.]

[PostedBlogger15for14092015]

{A Dream: of an unpleasant kind}[7th July 1985]

[Redbook2:364][19850707:1233]{A Dream: of an unpleasant kind}[7^th July 1985]

19850707:1233

This morning I dreamt, as follows: I was in [C], living upstairs, and my [next] sister [S] (with whom in waking life I have not spoken since her wedding day*) was living downstairs. I had problems.

{1} First of all, someone had left windows open on my floor, and the wind (and rain??) was [sic] coming in; I went round shutting the windows. (In waking life we had a storm a couple of days ago when precisely this happened.)

{2} Second, [S](?) had filled a grate on my floor too full with kindling, which could have burnt the house down; I removed it.**

{3} Thirdly, I found in one room a huge, slow, female rat***, with empty udders, which despite my efforts crawled past me through the door, down the stairs and into the sitting-room on [S]'s floor. [S] shouted at me words to the effect of: 'Take it away, Richard!' (– the name Richard**** being in waking life an invariable sign of someone who has insufficient interest even to remember my name correctly). The rat turned into a huge insect, of a crawling kind, which – [S] having disappeared – crawled into a thing like a huge Cornish pasty***** that was lying on the floor******

Although I seemed to remain quite detached at the time, as set out here it seems quite the nastiest dream I have had within memory.

*{July 1983}

**(The night before, we had a discussion about fire risk from roof lights.)

***(We had been comparing squirrels and rats the day before.)

****applied to me <870710>

*****{Ugh!}

******([In waking life] we had discussed mice found in bread.)

[PostedBlogger13092015]

{A Dream: The Mouth of Hell [continued(4)]}[31st May 1985]

[Redbook2:361-363][19850531:1038f]{A Dream: The Mouth of Hell [continued(4)]}[31st May 1985]

19850531:1038

[continued]

[W] is a great, a vital help in bringing me back to reality: in reminding me of what we should be doing, e.g. going for the cheap small house in Scotland and not the large mansion expensive in money or labour (to restore it), and not investing in computers which may be required for our present business but will be unnecessary for the next. But even as I re-read today's entry* to the end of the last dream**, I saw myself famous*** as the author of these very journals, published in my lifetime but (presumably) anonymously, and realised that I was falling into the same trap again.

*[See last five previous entries]

**[See last three previous entries]

***[!]

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