There is a discontinuity that exists between the sleep-state and the waking state.
That is: a dream can appear to be real. It is as though the sequence of images are taking place not behind the eyelids of the sleeper, but in front. An analogy would be of a television programme breaking out of the screen, and the characters continuing their lives in your own home.
I speak of a discontinuity because, upon waking, I sometimes feel relief that I had 'only' been dreaming. No matter how realistic or terrible the images, I can no longer be pursued once my eyes snap open. Likewise, I can turn the television off, over, or leave it on, for there is a boundary that the people who live inside it cannot cross.
It is always the case that the inhabitants of the television can never cross their particular boundary. Is it not always strictly true, though, that dream-images cannot pass from their dimension into one more familiar. More succinctly, images, ideas or suggestions can pass, but their effects on the non-sleeping mind are short-lived, or subtle.
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I woke up on Friday morning convinced that I was screaming.
Certainly, in the dream that shook me from my torpor, I was screaming. Perhaps my mouth was open and nothing came out. I could hear myself, though - a loud emission of terror.
I had arranged it so that I could come out of my front door, take a couple of steps, and alight in an area of south London that I visited in April.
An acquaintance I have seen only fleetingly in the past decade or fifteen years accompanied me. Open the door in Yorkshire, step through it, and there's south London.
Despite this, an odd realisation struck us. Shit - it's a quarter to eleven! We have be in London for three at the very latest! If we don't get that next train, we'll never make it in time! The train then proceeded to pass through the front door, and arrive instantaneously at its destination.
All the while, the song Karma Chameleon played in the background.
I then woke up silently screaming. For a good five or ten seconds, the sleep-state persisted, tottering and fading away in such an alien environment. Hours later, I find myself whistling as the words 'you come and go....' reverberate through my mind.
