Dream Journal – Eric Neubaum
I am in the forest that the large and the wild trees call home. Their branches reach up to caress the underbellies of enormous white clouds, fluffy like the storybooks.
Rusted train tracks lead away into a clearing and in the clearing there is a wooden carriage so covered in moss it looks to have been born there.
A man sits in one of the doorways, the biggest person I’ve ever set eyes on. I see him and then I’m next to him. He holds a fishing rod and the line leads into a swaying patch of morning-light.
‘Hello,’ he says. ‘My name is Mouse.’
It’s a tiny name for such a giant man.
‘Hello, Mouse,’ I say. ‘I am the Dreamer.’
A blue fish jumps out of the grass, its scales flashing metallic.
‘Mouse, can you read the stars?’
‘I could, once. Now I’m not so sure,’ says the giant man with the tiny name. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘What are they? The stars, I mean.’
‘Once, people believed them to be the souls of the dead, transported up there to shine down upon us forever. Now people say they are giant balls of gas, burning up in space.’
The line grows taut and Mouse pulls back on the rod. A large and whiskered fish the colour of burnished gold pops out of the morning-light. Fooled by the lure and caught on the hook, it dances helplessly in the sunshine.
‘Who knows what people might think tomorrow,’ says Mouse, a giant man with a tiny name.
This is another one from the dream study. According to the data, out of the six-hundred and fifty people who took part in the study, seventeen of them had this exact dream on the exact same date. Prior entries from the study can be found here and the next one here – C.R.