Dreams are odd phenomenon. I have lots of them but remember very few, usually those just before waking. Each night is like a book of short stories written of which only a couple survive the transition to consciousness. Interpreting dreams may be one of the oldest forms of psychological analysis. Today we still hanker after the meaning of dreams, though I think such musings would be best located in the mundane - what happens every day. The unconscious mind goes to work processing the day's affairs. I know that it's possible to get lost in the weeds, especially when we are dealing with symbols and their interpretation.

I once kept a dream diary in which I recorded a few dozen remembered dreams or fragments thereof. I used a book purported to be based on Jungian theory to try to get a handle on what my dreams might mean. It was interesting enough but I realised that most of what I had recorded had a simpler explanation attached to it. My hopes and fears informed my dreams.

I had a surprisingly rare dream last night. I was having one about going to the local swimming pool. something I do regularly. As in many dreams, things were going a little pair-shaped - there were all sorts of obstacles preventing me from getting in the water. No swimmers, the change room door disappearing, the pool being empty etc. At some point I realised that I was dreaming and I began to tell myself that this was in fact a dream and that I should wake up. Now I can never recall this ever happening before as dreams have always seemed real and completely immersive. I know that this is the experience of others but it has always eluded me until now.