dreamy days
Yesterday I went to an herbal dream pillow workshop. My friend knows the facilitator and encouraged me and another friend of ours to join. I signed up thinking that it’d be a good opportunity to make some extra Christmas presents and a fun way to be a little crafty. What I didn’t expect was the satisfaction I’d get from a virtual sewing circle spent talking and learning about dreams and herbs. It felt so good to make things with my own hands in the company of others. I guess it’s been a long time since I’ve done that.
I feel like this is the most “duh” thing ever. Of course it felt fun to craft with friends and new acquaintances. I enjoy sewing and hanging out with people.
However, I’ve been so wrapped up in my little world: leave the house only for errands, physically “see” only the family I live with, virtually “see” some of my close friends or my students and coworkers, text family and friends, and generally live a pretty small life. I didn’t realize that I missed this kind of thing until I experienced it. A couple-hours-long opportunity to meet new folks and connect over nerdy dream and plant talk was so surprising and lovely. I guess I’ve kind of forgotten what it feels like to spend time with new people who are interested in the same things as me.
So there. That’s my rambling way of giving you the context for this week’s prompt. It centers on dreams, which I hope you’ll have tonight.
Prompt #22
This one requires more time than usual, but I think it’s worth it. The whole point is to tap in to the creativity, thought, and knowledge that reside in the unconscious, and that we can sometimes activate, or access, through sleep and dreaming. If you already do some kind of dream-journaling, then you’re good to go! If not, try the following.
If you can, make yourself some herbal tea before bed tonight. Chamomile, peppermint, something calming. I just learned about mugwort and hops as good dreamy herbs/plants. Lavender is a classic. Just something that will make you feel warm and cozy. I’m into the concept of plant magic, so that’s part of this practice. If you don’t like or have tea, though, that’s totally fine.
If you don’t already have one, give yourself some ritual tonight. Suggestions: turn off your phone or put it away at least one hour before sleep, drink your warm drink, read, write or journal, color or draw, light some candles and stare at the flame, knit or crochet, listen to some calming music, stretch, give your sore muscles a massage with oil or lotion that makes you feel serene (another lavender plug here!), pull a tarot card or pray or do whatever your spiritual practice entails, stare at the moon, set a sleep intention, or anything else that feels right to you. If you feel called to any of those practices, go for it. If they’re all too hippy-dippy and extra, all good. Just make sure to do something that feels like taking special care of yourself.
Then, make sure to place some paper and a writing utensil near your bed before you go to sleep. The idea is to make sure you’ll be able to grab it right when you wake up. By the way, this isn’t necessarily a “dream journal” (unless you want it to be), just a dream prompt.
Let yourself sleep and then, when you wake up tomorrow, grab your pen/pencil and paper and write down either A) what you remember from your dreams, or B) the very first thoughts that are coming to mind. If you don’t remember any specifics, that’s totally okay; your waking thoughts will be influenced by your nighttime brain activity, whether you recognize how or not.
Maybe it’ll be fruitful creativity, confusing gibberish, grumpy complaints, whatever. Just let this be a reminder of the role the unconscious has on your creativity and thinking. Maybe the practice will spark some new ideas or connections. Fingers crossed!
ashley's piece:
“It’s either none or nine,” he grumbled, “which means, ‘no.’” Mr. G turned away to answer Marissa’s question.
I rolled my eyes and grabbed Danny’s arm. “It’s fine, we can just go hide in the back of the library.”
I knew this was a decent plan because I once spent all of 2nd period in the stacks. I’d stayed up too late the night before writing sad poetry and listening to Radiohead, belly full of a fancy little cocktail made of stolen vodka and orange juice. Instead of trying to muscle my way through AP psych—too much information, not enough wakefulness— I‘d curled up in the last row of books between classes, knowing Mrs. Kennedy would never find me. She was too busy shooing freshmen from the front counter. Well, I hadn’t actually known she wouldn’t find me, but some wild boldness (maybe a touch of vodka still left in my system?) overtook me and I went for it. Sure enough, I’d been right. I slept all through psych and woke up rested just in time to slip out and make it to drama.
So, yes, this was how I knew to tell Danny not to worry. We had a perfectly hidden-away chill spot to use if Gardener didn’t want to give us a break—though, honestly, he owed it to us. Hadn’t we been setting up all night for his production? The least he could do is cut us some slack and give us a pass to skip a class or two.
Hindsight is 2020, but if I had known how much time we’d end up spending locked up in that book prison, I’d have definitely chosen going to class. But how could I have known that ahead of time? We just thought it was a regular Wednesday.