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Feather's Miscellany: Dreams

"Iíve spent as much of my life in a world of dreams as in the world of reality,'' writes John Waddington-Feather.

Iíve spent as much of my life in a world of dreams as in the world of reality, for Iíve always enjoyed dreaming. Itís added a further dimension to my life whether awake or asleep; a dimension uninhibited by the constrictions of time and space.

When Iím asleep I can travel whole continents in the twinkling of an eye, and move in a timeless setting meeting all sorts of people; some I know, others complete strangers. Indeed, one of the delights of dreaming is meeting up with loved ones and friends long dead, yet in my dream world it might have been only yesterday since we last met. They are alive as ever and eternally young.

Of course, there are unpleasant dreams and nightmares, but they are few and far between, and seem to become fewer the older I grow. Iím over eighty now and havenít had a nightmare in years. They seem to be confined to youth and middle-age. Perhaps thereís some innate process which distils them out as one grows older. So between getting into bed and breakfast or during a post-lunch snooze, I inhabit another world; a world which changes constantly in the twinkling of an eye as I move around it.

Flashes from the past colour my dreams, places and people from long ago, sometimes completely forgotten in my conscious world. And perhaps I ought to add at this point that in states of unconsciousness during operations in hospital I never dream. Artificially induced oblivion is not the stuff that dreams are made of.

Real life itself, I believe is a theatre, a dream-stage. At intervals the characters on it come and go in our lives and are never seen again: youngsters I was at school with, comrades in the army during my National Service and Territorial Army days, team-mates in the various rugby and cricket teams, girl-friends have entered and left my life at intervals. All of them were once close and in daily contact. All of them I still hold dear though I havenít seen them in years and many, alas, are now dead. Yet from time to time some of them appear in my dreams, quite out of the blue, and I wake up joyful.

So, I cherish my dreams. They remain a constant source of comfort and pleasure, a sure way of escaping the agonies and hurts of wakeful reality. I can only hope in faith that the final sleep, Death, opens up another world of happy dreams which lasts for ever.
John Waddington-Feather ©

A good selection of John's books are now available from Amazon. Click here for details http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_1?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=john+waddington-feather


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