Previously, I have found that reflecting on my dreams was a useful tool in illuminating the basic hopes and fears I'd hide from myself in waking life. After awhile, I felt interpreting a dream was easy, and the symbolism nakedly obvious. But now my dreams have taken a strange and indecipherable turn. On a Sunday night I dreamt in grave detail of a man I'd never seen and on the following Wednesday, to my astonishment, he walked into the clinic where I work. I quietly, discreetly flipped out. Another night, I dreamt only one name over and over: Pena Branca. After doing the best I could with some truly horrific Alta Vista Babel Fish translations of Portuguese websites, I deduced that he was a Brazilian indian chief at the time of early Portuguese settlement, and possibly also a spiritual figure. The name could mean white sorrow, white rock, or white feather but means absolutely nothing to me. I don't understand why my subconscious now points me towards foreign wikipedia submissions and previously unknown UC Davis employees, but I'm finding this new mode less personally useful than the old days of bland-but-meaningful symbolism. Where's a good old gut feeling when I need it?
Of course, I could have just been thinking about this tumblr all night long, which, given the content, might make it an even more spiritual experience.