Dreaming in Color

It used to mean something different to me…

Probably about a week ago, I woke in the morning, heavily impressed by a dream I’d just had. This was odd for a couple reasons: first, because I had not had a memorable dream in quite some time, and secondly, because I wasn’t remembering what happened in the dream. In fact, I don’t think anything did happen in the dream. What I remembered: a massive Celtic-like design in sage green, two different tints.

Odd.

This morning — or maybe it was last night — I had a similar experience. This time, it wasn’t green. It was mostly black and violet. Again, there was no “plot” to my dream. Instead, it was a place, but more so, it was COLOR. I don’t remember anything about the space except that it was a room. The color, again, was what impressed me: The walls were black, and there were spots of violet and fluorescent pink, as if the only light in the room was a black light.

Again, odd.

I’ve always dreamed in color, but it had not been the primary focus until now.

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