I Am The House I Dream Of by Tosh Berman

 

I Am The House I Dream Of by Tosh Berman

The Stray Lamb

 

The Stray Lamb by Tosh Berman

January 29, 2021, by Tosh Berman

 

January 29, 2021

Usually, but frankly, not always, I hear a voice as I'm about to drift off into sleep. Mostly in the morning hours, as I struggle to get back to sleep, and I'm about to go under, I hear "Tosh!" In my memory, it's either my wife or mom calling out to me. When it is not a voice calling me, I hear a loud bang. Both times startles me back to the awakened world, and it takes me a few seconds to realize that the voice or the banging in my head is part of a dream. Although I recognize my wife's voice, it has an echo effect, doesn't sound l like real life. It's almost like it's coming from another world. The truth is, my wife has always been asleep by my side. 

French psychiatrist Jules-Gabriel-Francois Ballarger was the first to write about this condition in 1840. He studied the hypnagogic state, which is the stage between wakefulness and sleep. I have experienced sleep paralysis, which is when you are awakened but can't move or speak. My memory of that state is like going through levels of an awakened life, but not instantly. Sometimes I have a lucid dream, a dream where you realize you are aware of your dreams. As a teenager, I had the sensation of being dragged out of bed by some invisible force. I remember sleeping with my girlfriend at the time, and I would hold onto her so I won't be easily pulled away. Or I had a hallucination of a shadowy figure in the darkroom, and soon as I gather my senses, it will disappear. 

One thing consistent in my life is feeling like I lead two separate lives—one in the awakened world and the other in the world of sleep. My dreams are so intense and textural that I recall newspaper headlines, original melodies of songs, detail on clothing, as well as sharp observations of buildings and rooms. I often dream of traveling, and it is always the same cities. London, Tokyo, Paris, and Manhattan. I dream of the town I live in, Los Angeles, but it often turns into Tokyo. Also, I tend to be naked in a crowd of young people. Usually, I'm trying to sleep at a very active party or in bed with several people. It sounds sexual, but it is often me trying to sleep among the action. 

I'm often tired during the day, and I need to nap around 2 in the afternoon. When I sleep in the afternoon, it's good and deep sleep. Rarely do I dream, or I'm not aware of having dreams in the daylight. The night, of course, is a different matter. As I turn the lights off and try to fall asleep, I often see spots behind my closed eyes. It's like my eyelids are a movie screen, and they are showing some abstract films. The scientific term is phosphenes: sparkles, lines, or geometrical patterns that show up when you're awake but eyes closed. 

It's the auditory effects that I find most disturbing. Besides hearing my name being called out, I hear doorbells (my actual doorbell ring), the telephone ringing outside the bedroom, and so forth. I dream, therefore I exist. 

Thursday, April 4, 2019

I woke up early to do an interview with J.C. for 'dublab.com, but as usual, I need at least two hours to get myself ready.   When I open my eyes in the morning, it is usually coming from a dream state that is a borderline nightmare.  Mostly I dream that I either live or sleep with numerous people. There's a bed of course, but I have to share it with numerous people.  I'm usually living in a large home, that is neither Los Angeles, Tokyo or Paris.  A combination of all three.  I often walk around naked with the various people in the kitchen and living room. It's not exactly a party, but people were just living and doing their business.  They never pay any attention to my nakedness, and I'm the only person to notice that this is an odd state of being.  When I get back to bed, it's difficult to find a spot where I can lay down and sleep.  I then wake up and start thinking about my interview for 'dublab.com.

After the interview, I went to my Uncle's house to discuss finances and him and his partner moving in with us shortly.  Right now, we are preparing the studio apartment down below for both of them.  Since my Uncle is a senior citizen, we have to think about attaching rails onto walls and remove a lot of the broken concrete that is in front of the entrance way.  A lot of work.  Still, we have a gentleman who can do the job, and on top of that, he sings loudly when working.  A talented singer and I asked him why he didn't make a record.  He is very religious, and he only sings in the church.  He sings for him, which he points his finger toward the sky, and feels it's not right to commercialize his singing for profit.   

I feel like a traveler.  I walked around the lake this early evening, and it started to rain.  I love taking long walks and exploring the moisture from above hitting me on the face.   The new thing in my life today is that I'm starting to do podcasts. It will be "Tosh Talks," but audio.  I will still do the YouTube shows as well, but I find it satisfying to do just an audio presentation. I can take my pants off while doing the show.  Who will know?

The Evening Series: Saturday, July 29, 2017

The Evening Series: Saturday, July 29, 2017

The evening is unnerving.  There is the sense of dread just right before I fall asleep.  It feels like the dream world is knocking on my waking consciousness and waiting to enter.  The entrance is fearful because I don’t feel that there is an exit.  Once I enter the opening of this world, it will close on me, and I will be held a prisoner in this world of not of my making.  I'm aware that there is a bridge between the two worlds, but I also feel like I'm living two lives in one.   The images that come to me at nighttime are ones of extreme textural sensitivity.   I recall in a dream that someone gave me a book, and the volume had regular pages, but also a series of round circular holes that are cut out.  One can read the book, but you also read the following page, due to the hole, which is in the center of the page.  The placement of the text was a way of looking into the future, or logically on the next page. 

Food is never part of my dreams.   I don’t recall ever having a meal or eating food in my dream world.  I wonder about this because the food is so sensual, and one would think that once in the dream world, the pleasures or fears of tasting a meal would for sure be part of the landscape.   Objects like books come in and out of the picture, and again, with vivid detail.  I often wake up from a dream and find myself that the book I have dreamed about doesn’t exist.  One of the reasons why I like to write is to obtain the book that comes with my dream. 

The other odd thing concerning my dreams is that a lot of times it’s a third person perspective.   Sometimes I’m one of the characters in the dream narrative, but it’s not me telling the story.  It’s like watching a film in a movie theater, where I’m just a passive viewer.   In most cases it’s a thriller, where I’m (as a character) is chased or I’m chasing someone. The incident or situation can be in a danger zone, but as a viewer, I never feel panic or being upset by what is unfolding in front of my eyes. 

I dream of people I know, and I don’t know.  The ones I do know seem to be individuals that I don’t think about in my current life.  For instance, last night I had a dream about someone I used to work with, but for the life of me, cannot remember his name.  His presence in the dream is powerful, and what I remember of his personality is very accurate. I never think of him.  He doesn't matter to me now, nor in the past, except it’s someone I had to see due to my occupation at the time, but also the daily schedule of seeing someone you work with in the workplace.  

I have had sexual encounters in my dream.   Very satisfying and not always with a woman I know in my waking life.   The sensuality of the moment is that I’m enjoying myself greatly, and I’m not thinking of anything except the pleasure I’m getting out of the sexual encounter.  When I wake up from such a dream, I never feel depressed or sorry to be back in bed.  Instead, I  look at the ceiling and its shadows due to the lighting of the trees outside my window.  Sexual dreams are the only passage between the two worlds where it's a pleasurable experience. 

On the other hand looking at the digital clock across the way makes me think of time passing.  Or in the future, for instance, what needs to be done for the next day.   I fall asleep, and then I have a series of dreams that are anxiety driven due to schedules being missed or appointments that I have forgotten.  I tend to have embarrassing moments such as being naked in a place or situation, where I clearly shouldn’t be in the nude.  There is a feeling that if I ignore my nakedness, then everyone else in my dream will do the same.  So no one calls me out being in the nude, but I’m entirely conscious that I’m naked and the fear of being discovered in such a state causes anxiety.   What’s interesting to me is that I have no fear of being found naked in the awakened life.  Now, thinking of it, I think it’s more about keeping secrets.  The exposure or having some form of truth coming out that can harm you.  That’s the fear.  I have many secrets. 

- Tosh Berman

December 3, 2014

December 3, 2014

There’s a storm starting up outside my window, and there has been a storm brewing in my heart for a while now.  I feel that everything I have carried out in the past, will now come home to either haunt me right up till my death, or fly like a buzzard over my body, just waiting till I stop breathing.   I woke up from a dream just now, where I was wandering in a foreign city, and I’m not sure if it was Paris or Tokyo, but it’s a location that I visit often in my dreams.  Bookstores are very much part of my dream world.  I have at least three bookshops that I visit in my dreams.  I’m sure that they are based on actual stores, but to this day, I can’t figure out which store or in what location.  The bookstore last night was a second-hand store that always sold interesting titles, and mostly was Penguin editions from the 1940s. The store was located on a side-street off the big arcade.   I remember there were Americans on the street, but obviously tourists of some sort and manner.  I couldn’t find the store, and when I woke up, I felt a great depression upon me.  I think through my dreams, I’m trying to find heaven, but alas, it is so close to me, I can almost feel it - but then I awake, and I’m left with a storm outside, that clearly represents how I feel inside my heart and soul.

I’m not a great traveler, but I do travel time-to-time, and it’s always for the pleasure of looking for pleasure in some area of the world that will spark my imagination.  I often dream of going to the cinema and it is always a theater located in a very urban part of the city - meaning not in the suburbs.   I know it’s a film by Jean-Luc Godard, with a soundtrack by Nino Rota, but as far as I know the soundtrack or the Godard film does not exist in the awakening life.   But my dream of the film is in great detail, and it is an actual movie, including credits, stars, and so forth.  And even though the soundtrack was by Rota, I clearly made-up the music and orchestration in my dream.  Which is unbelievable to me, because I’m totally tone-deaf and couldn’t carry a melody if your life depended on it.  Nevertheless I have the entire orchestration as well as the narrative of this film in great detail in my dreaming life.

“Tell me, can one at all denote thinking and feeling as things entirely separable?  I cannot imagine a sublime intellect without the ardor of emotion.” In my awakened life, I try to separate my feelings from that actions that I do on a daily basis.  A sense of detachment is important for a writer, so in theory that artist can see his work placed in a bigger context.   Yet, in my dreams, I’m consistently emotional, and when I do see a film in that state or landscape, it fits perfectly with how I’m feeling at that moment.  When I’m conscious and writing in a library or in my studio, I feel totally not connected to the written page that is in front of me.  “My aesthetic is that of the sniper on the roof.” Yet, I lose the focus once my morning starts up and I have to face the afternoon, and then the dread of the evening.  Only in dreams do I seem to exist in my fullest capacity as a writer and human being.

“Art attracts us only by what it reveals of our most secret self.” Therefore I feel dead, yet only alive in my deepest dream.  On the other hand “knowing this to be a worthless life to live, why do I keep living on?  Because life contains something called beauty.” And for me, the beauty in my life, is in a dream.