The dream is a lot like a foreign movie, with a definite and separate narrative offered by the subtitles and the actual action. In a foreign movie, the subtitles are the unavoidable, unmistakable laid down created track of the film. But at the same time, you see what is really happening, and sometimes the subtitles seem right and sometimes they don't but while you're watching one seems to describe the other.
That's garbled, but what I mean is that dreams possess at the very least two simultaneous streams of meaning (not meanings within meanings, a la Inception, but the dream of Inception had all the dreams of Inception been compressed into one totally incomprehensible and inseparable mess of significant surrealism), which at the time of the dream seem not to be at cross purposes, but in waking shudder apart to make themselves singular. Then you no longer can tell what you felt while you were selling pencils from an ice cream stand in a crumbling facsimile of Bombay while air balloons perforated the sky. You try to hold onto the solid items you knew you saw but as they coalesce into anything known, they rapidly stop resembling the items you remembered.
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