Dream on, little girl, dream on...

 {photo credit: Pinterest}

You know those Dream Conversations people have?  One person says, "I had a dream about you last night..." and the game is on.  Who had the weirdest/scariest/goofiest dream?  It's fun!  Alas, I don't get to participate, so this post is basically me compensating for my exclusion.  I hope you don't mind.

See, I don't dream.

An ammendment: I probably do dream, but I forget them so instantaneously, it's like they never happened.

It's weird.

{photo credit: Twig and Thistle}

Do you dream?  You probably do.  Most people do.  I've only met one other person whose dream legacy is identical to mine.

I used to dream.  When I was a kid, I dreamed every night.  The usual stuff, really... the dream where you go to camp and you've forgotten to pack your clothes... the dream where someone is chasing you through the woods, but you never see them and they never catch you... the dream where you're late for class... (I have no idea why I had this dream; I was homeschooled).   I had the whole gambit of totally bizzaro dreams.  You know, where it all makes perfect sense that your aunt has purple hair and is married to your dentist, or you're living on the moon, or suddenly your favorite cartoon character shows up and he's your brother (you just know this instinctively) and he's mad at you for eating his share of the jell-o -- then you wake up and finally realize how insane it all sounds. 

Dreams supposedly tell you something about yourself.  Like, if you fall off a cliff in a dream, you wake up before you die -- only I've got this friend who dies, and still doesn't wake up.  He's just dead, and he hangs around in no-place, being dead, until his alarm clock goes off.  This probably means that he's very deep or existential or bizarre.  (Sorry, Seth.) 

If you can outrun or out-fly the bad guy who's chasing you in the woods, that supposedly means that you've got a strong will.

What does it say about you if you turn thirteen and dreams become a blank? 

 

Like I said before, I'm pretty sure I still have them.  Sometimes if someone wakes me suddenly, I'll remember a small piece of the dream -- but as soon as I focus on it, I can feel it spilling out of my memory like sand until it's gone.  It's a creepy sensation.  Then, three or four times a year, I remember a whole dream -- and it's incredibly vivid and hard to shake.

Take last night.  A bad stomache-ache woke me at 3:30am.  I had been having the most realistic dream that I had rear-ended a woman in a white sedan on Main Street here in my town.  When I woke up, I was sure it had happened.  I literally couldn't differentiate between the dream and reality.  I was making plans to call the insurance company and get my car to the shop when I realized... my car.  My car is a tan Ford.  My car in the memory (that is: the dream) had been a blue Subaru.  I've been thinking of buying a Subaru when my Ford finally wears out, but since I haven't bought one yet... that must have been a dream.

Whew.  See what happens when you don't get out of practice with this whole dreaming thing??

This is actually my second dream this year.  In the other dream, a man I knew died and we went to his funeral.  I spent a week thinking he was dead.  I didn't think about it a lot, because I'd just accepted it, but then someone said, "The Wilsons have been having a tough week." and I just about said, "Well, of course they are, Mr. Wilson just died!" when suddenly my conscious brain caught up and corrected me.

I don't miss nightmares, that's for sure.  My mom has freaky nightmares and I wouldn't trade her vivid, troubled nights for my boring, somnolent nights.

But sometimes I miss it... 

{photo credit: DusterAramanth on DeviantArt}

I used to have this dream of a perfectly circular house, all one room.  It had golden wood floors, and wide windows filled with green landscape.  There were warm rugs, a plush chair, and books.  There was a wrap-around porch with a rocking chair.  Somehow, it always smelled like rain was coming, even when the sun was out.  Every time I'd go back there, it would be waiting for me, and I would add something new to it: a cushion or a painting or a cat.

I still go there in my conscious mind sometimes, like when I'm trying to fall asleep.  I like to think I stay there all night: curled up, waiting for the rain.  I figure, if life gives you an empty canvas, paint whatever you please.

So that's my dream story. 

Your turn.