Remembering and forgetting and remembering again. That is the cycle of dreams isn't it? There's the brief moment shifting a car into gear when suddenly a flash of last night's subconscious journey appears. The number of dreams I have been recalling lately has fluctuated, and in order to recall last night's dream, I must lock onto the key imagery: bicycles pulling into a garage, a large building--a school, perhaps? No, there are only fragments now. The most distinct portion was when I pulled into the garage of my St. Anthony place, accompanied by two other bikers. I was riding my black Schwinn. It was the end of the dream--pulling into the garage and shutting the garage door.
Often when I watch films or read books, I can recall the conflict and its development, but I struggle to recall the resolution and conclusion. I suppose I can't but accept this inverse of habit.
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