October is always a strange month for dreams for me.
Say what you will about it, but I have come to believe on some level in the old Celtic myth that around Samhain and Beltane the veil between the worlds of the living and the dead grow thinner. And as a result, that world affects my dreams more and more.
Overnight, for instance, I had a long dream about being a steampunk demon hunter. I woke slightly several times but returned to the dream each time.
I can’t say I remember much about it, save at the very end I was trying to locate a flight.
Dreams have always fascinated me, and I’ve always had charged, symbolic dreams. I have a handful of dreams from over the years that still stay with me, that have a certain power quality to them that I know means something, though I never really seem to figure out just what it is they’re telling me.
Certainly I see those who have passed in my dreams, maybe more than most people? But then, too, I’ve lost more than most people that way too.
What I do know is that when I have dreams like this, it creates this odd, dissociative feeling. It leaves me feeling partially stuck in the other world, like I’m here but not wholly here.
Life (and death) are strange things sometimes.