Writing seems in some ways to access the same parts of my subconscious mind as dreaming, the part where the brain seems capable of creating weird stories and symbols. I wish I could somehow project my dreams onto a cinema screen in “real” life so that I could watch them again, not least because they can be fascinating. For years I used to dream I was visiting a village in the mountains, far away from anywhere in the North, on a river which wound away into the wastelands northward. Despite being so distant it was a safe and homely place and I used to enjoy my time there. But I haven’t had that dream, and so I haven’t been able to go back to that village, for years; only my subconscious knows why. The sea often features too in my dreams, when I frequently find myself in houses built on the edge of cliffs overlooking the ocean, usually a blue ocean crashing like the best oceans from Hollywood movies onto picturesque rocks below. These houses are often beautiful and exotic, like houses from a fairytale, but although I know they’re mine, for some reason I can’t stay in them. (A good therapist could doubtless have a field day with that one….) Maybe if I was artistic I could paint or draw these places, and indeed I often enjoy visiting sites such as Deviant Art and looking at the imagined scenes that artists come up with, so many of which resemble places from dreams.