我的夢境檔案有幾大類
我自幼無覺不夢。內心深處的夜間世界奇異譎詭、色彩斑斕，且具備強烈的超現實藝術感。有時一夜數夢，醒後依然記憶猶新。多年來，我習慣將這些夢境隨手記錄，或畫下斑駁的草圖。奇妙的是，許多夢中的人與事，常在醒後的現實、電視的畫面、乃至未來的日子裡似曾相識地重現。
我的夢境自帶一種生命史詩般的進化性：從早年的逢山遇水、被追逃亡、跨境受阻，進化到如今在戒嚴與迷宮中能中彈而不痛、化影穿牆。過去那種被打斷便無法重拾的遺憾，在如今已能續夢，甚至經歷精巧的夢中夢。
有時，夢見亭台樓閣坐落在山顛，登高望遠，心曠神怡。牆上有草書詩詞，柱上有共整對聯，讀來欣慰無比。遺憾的是醒來後怎麼也記不起那詩詞或對句的內容。(夢裡解答的難題醒後也記不住，在夢裡能用毛線編織美麗的花樣醒來也記不起來) 這樣的夢越多，遺憾感也就越強。於是下決心以後凡是做到此類的夢，一定要馬上起來，用筆寫下夢裡的詩詞歌賦。 果然詩夢又來造訪，讀完後馬上起身將所讀之詞一字不漏的寫下來。高興地回床繼續睡覺。哪知清早起床後，怎麼也找不到昨夜記下的詩詞。原來我做了個夢中夢！那起來記寫詩詞的動作也發生在夢裡！氣人！
即便是最世俗的「尿急夢」，亦在歲月裡悄然蛻變：從早年夢見骯髒、狹小且毫無門窗的廁所，進化到某次夢見自己已坐在高耸如火箭的機器中部、正靜待發射去太空，卻因內急而下車尋找廁所。結果在夢中，只能眼睜睜看著那架機器嗖地一聲獨自竄入天際、飛升太空，在無盡的後悔中醒來，才發現確實是應該上廁所了。再到後來，夢中的廁所變得乾淨，卻依舊無法在夢裡解決。直至最近幾年，潛意識裡連廁所的提醒都消失了，身體直接平靜地醒來。這份肉身與夜間世界的和解，與靈魂的漫遊一樣有跡可循。
這些夜間的靈魂漫遊看似紛亂，實則有跡可循。它們常常在不同的時間與地點反覆造訪，凝聚成十五種獨特的記憶卷軸。
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| 【01】 蛇夢 | 【02】 逢山遇水 | 【03】 蓬萊仙境 | 【04】 看見聖人 |
| 【05】 迷路追逐 | 【06】 腳不沾地 | 【07】 地動山搖 | 【08】 金銀財寶 |
| 【09】 口吐渣子 | 【10】 潛意識預言 | 【11】 潛意識告別 | 【12】 出境夢 |
| 【13】 嫉妒夢 | 【14】 情感臆想 | 【15】 彼岸世界 |
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My Multiverse of the Night: An Overview
Since my earliest childhood, never have I slept without dreaming. The nighttime world deep within my soul is a bizarre, vibrant kaleidoscope, possessing a fierce sense of surrealist artistry. Often, several dreams unreel in a single night, remaining entirely vivid upon my waking. Over the decades, I have routinely transcribed these night journals or sketched out their stark visual outlines. Mysteriously, many countenances and occurrences witnessed in my sleep have reappeared with a profound sense of déjà vu in the days that followed—manifesting in my physical reality, on television screens, or in the unfolding of my future.
My dreamscapes possess a striking, evolutionary trajectory: progressing from the panicked alpine crossings, frantic escapes, and blocked borders of my youth, to a mature state where I can now take bullet strikes without pain in militarized mazes and turn my frame into a shadow that walks through solid brick walls. The ancient frustrations of an interrupted dream dissolving forever have evolved; I can now seamlessly resume broken dreams, and even navigate intricate dreams-within-dreams.
Sometimes, I dream of pavilions and grand towers perched upon lofty mountain summits; climbing high to gaze out into the distance fills my heart with a boundless, carefree joy. Cursive-script poetry graces the walls, and perfectly balanced couplets line the monumental pillars, bringing immense spiritual comfort as I read them. Tragically, upon waking, I can never recall a single word of those poems or verses. (Similarly, complex problems solved effortlessly in my sleep vanish upon waking, and beautiful patterns knitted with yarn in my dreams cannot be reconstructed by my waking mind.) The more these poetic dreams visited me, the sharper my sense of frustration grew. Thus, I made a fierce resolution: the next time a dream like this arrived, I would immediately force myself up and use a pen to capture those verses and songs on paper. Sure enough, the poetic dream visited once more. Upon reading the verses, I immediately got out of bed and painstakingly copied down every single character without omitting a single word. Overjoyed, I returned to bed and fell back asleep. Imagine my utter fury when I arose the next morning and found absolutely no trace of the paper or the poems anywhere. As it turned out, I had walked right into a dream-within-a-dream! The entire sequence of rising from bed and writing down the lyrics had transpired entirely within the dream theater itself! Infuriating!
Even the most mundane "urinary-urgency dreams" have quietly evolved over the years: transforming from early nightmares of filthy, cramped latrines entirely wanting in doors or windows, to a pivotal dream where I sat inside the middle section of a towering, rocket-like apparatus, tensely awaiting launch into outer space, only to step down to seek a restroom due to an urgent bodily need. In the dream, I could only stand by and watch as that machine shot toward the heavens with a sudden breeze, ascending into deep space without me; I awoke in endless regret, only to realize that it was indeed time to use the restroom.
Later, the dream restrooms turned clean, yet the inner urgency remained unresolved within the slumber. Until recent years, even the psychological cues of a restroom have completely vanished from my subconscious; my body simply wakes up in absolute stillness. This final reconciliation between the physical flesh and the nocturnal world is just as traceable as the wanderings of the soul.
These nocturnal voyages may appear chaotic, yet they follow a hidden geometry. They routinely revisit my sleep across shifting epochs and landscapes, crystallizing into fifteen distinct scrolls of memory.
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Special thanks to Gemini AI for providing the spirited translation and text refinement.
第三百五十九篇
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