sovay: (Lord Peter Wimsey)
sovay ([personal profile] sovay) wrote2008-10-23 12:36 pm

Looking in two

I dreamed I forgot my native language, but when I woke up I couldn't remember which one it was.

[identity profile] cucumberseed.livejournal.com 2008-10-23 04:41 pm (UTC)(link)
Interesting. I dreamed of seeing a bumper sticker, and I cannot remember what it was, that made me think I was in Ostia Naye.

***grr. Moment I hit send.***

It was a whippoorwill with the phrase "Never Drive Faster than your Psychopomp can Fly"
Edited 2008-10-23 16:42 (UTC)

[identity profile] asakiyume.livejournal.com 2008-10-23 04:41 pm (UTC)(link)
That's terribly sad... you must have had a huge sense of loss.

[identity profile] ap-aelfwine.livejournal.com 2008-10-23 05:18 pm (UTC)(link)
That sounds like a hard dream, albeit a fascinating one.

I have dreams where folk don't speak the language to me that I'd expect them to, and where things are off like we're standing next each other and one of us says "Is that thee thonder?" But I've never had never anything quite like that.

My sympathy. You must've felt very disoriented, after.

[identity profile] rysmiel.livejournal.com 2008-10-23 05:28 pm (UTC)(link)
I dream in perl sometimes, but I don't think I've ever dreamt of losing it and felt it as losing a language.

[identity profile] teenybuffalo.livejournal.com 2008-10-23 05:36 pm (UTC)(link)
That sounds so tantalizing. It would bug me all day, not necessarily in a bad way.

You chime with something on my own mind. Lately I've had to get up way too early, a few times a week. When I am woken by the alarm at 6:10, I have this strong feeling of loss and desolation that lasts for about ten minutes. I'm pretty sure that I am being torn from a really good dream back into the waking world, and it gets me down for the first few minutes. The hell of it is that I can never remember the dreams--I can only remember I felt happy and caught up in them.

[identity profile] papersky.livejournal.com 2008-10-23 08:37 pm (UTC)(link)
I don't know what language it was, but I have heard the echoes of it in your poetry.

Perhaps it is the language of undersea autumn.