Young Pravin with one foot into spiritualism and the rest of his body firmly in materialism, has suggested the topic for this week’s LBC Friday post. I hope that I don’t disappoint him with my take on the subject.
I personally have no experience of any of my dreams becoming realities. I don’t remember most of my dreams anyway.
I shall leave my readers with this link to a very interesting article on the subject and the following two quotations to deal with the subject as I don’t think that I can do justice to it by being original.
“Once upon a time, I dreamt I was a butterfly, fluttering hither and thither, to all intents and purposes a butterfly. I was conscious only of my happiness as a butterfly, unaware that I was myself. Soon I awaked, and there I was, veritably myself again. Now I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly, dreaming I am a man.”
~ Zhuangzi, The Butterfly as Companion: Meditations on the First Three Chapters of the Chuang-Tzu.
“It’s at night, when perhaps we should be dreaming, that the mind is most clear, that we are most able to hold all our life in the palm of our skull. I don’t know if anyone has ever pointed out that great attraction of insomnia before, but it is so; the night seems to release a little more of our vast backward inheritance of instincts and feelings; as with the dawn, a little honey is allowed to ooze between the lips of the sandwich, a little of the stuff of dreams to drip into the waking mind. I wish I believed, as J. B. Priestley did, that consciousness continues after disembodiment or death, not forever, but for a long while. Three score years and ten is such a stingy ration of time, when there is so much time around. Perhaps that’s why some of us are insomniacs; night is so precious that it would be pusillanimous to sleep all through it! A bad night is not always a bad thing.”
~ Brian W Aldiss.