How a dream made Maxine Nightingale the soundtrack to my day

Another example of involuntary mnemonics.

I woke up this morning realizing I had had some vivid dreams during the night. 

I almost never remember my dreams. Based on my unscientific research, that seems to be a dude thing. I know lots of women who can recall their dreams in exquisite detail. My much better half can not only tell me what she was wearing in her dreams, she can tell me what “that guy” in her dreams—who was me, but wasn’t me—and everyone else, was wearing. 

But what happens with me is, as soon as I start trying to recall my dream, all of the details go flying out of my conscious mind, leaving me at most a few diffuse scraps of dream to hang on to. 

And that’s what happened this morning. I thought, “Whoa, that was some intense dream,” and immediately I started grasping in vain to remember it, even as I could feel my internal hard drive being wiped clean.

But what I did hold on to was that this was an Odyssey dream—a dream where the object for me was to try to return to my power base. Not necessarily home, but someplace I had been earlier in the dream.

And right then, this song started playing in my head: 


No kidding. For reals.