The Iris Opens

   Over the past many nights the floodgates have opened wide in my resting mind. 
A turbulence of scenarios and imagery have possessed my imagination while I slept. 
One evening it was a random pack of animals attacking the house we stayed in. 
Several months ago one of the more vivid dreams involved a house with a hidden interior. A beautifully constructed wooden panel in the foyer slid over to reveal an entrance to a concealed portion of the estate. Once inside, it was revealed that there was more space within than without, including a vista looking out onto an ocean. An elder gentleman in the finest attire lived there. Returning back through the carved wooden door brought one to the original mundane house. The strange entryway was a portal of some sort to another dimension, much like dreams themselves. 

   The word dream goes back to Old Norse draumer—signifying merriment and noise, and to the Proto-Germanic draugmas—'deception, illusion, phantasm'—and in Lithuanian, 'friendship,' strangely enough.  The German word for it is traum, and it doesn't take a stretch to make the connection with both trauma and drama. I can't help but suspect that traumatic events play a key role in shaping our dreams, and by extension, our penchant to act out dramatic plays onstage as actors. Dreaming has always played a central role in my desires. Maybe that's because it's a key factor in directing all of our actions, from the moment we are born until the pivotal event of our deaths. The many associations of the word dream do not end there. The Old Norse word for 'ghosts' and 'apparitions' is draugr, which branches out to connect with Old High German triogan (and German trugan) meaning 'to decieve and delude.'  In Sanskrit the word druh implies 'seeking to harm,' and the Avestan druz indicates lies and deception.  Dreams may be the pivotal fulcrum upon which our very senses, while awake and concious, have been built.  Dreams are the foundation of our reality.