Dreams are telling me about the same voices with the same ticks having the same conversations with the same jokes about the same topics in the same places. I don’t need dreams to point that out. I see it in my waking life. But I appreciate the soothsaying nonetheless.
Dreams are nerves experiencing randomness, jumping and jarring, finding some narrative through the noise. This narrative is that these nerves are getting poked and touched with the same stimuli, day in, day out, until pleasure is gone. It is only discomfort and pain that remains, muscles twitching under weight to feel something different.
Dreams tell me to wander. To seek randomness and weave my own serendipitous narrative through the noise. This is where the Beats would’ve packed up a rucksack and thrown a thumb out into the highway. Eastbound and down.