I love to dream.
I don’t do it often enough.
I know they say the average person dreams 2-3 times a night, but I say, unless I can remember it, it doesn’t count. Of course, remembering snippets can be much more maddening than remembering nothing.
We’re all familiar with dream-logic… when you’re telling what you recall you find yourself adding the caveat of, “Well, it made sense in the dream.”
I tend to dream in cycles. I don’t know what triggers it, there doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason, experience, emotion or digestive correlation, but the morning after a batch of vivid recall, I know I’ll dream again that night. And the night after, and hopefully for a few more after that. It makes me really look forward to bedtime!
I’ve studied dream analysis. Read books and online articles, discussed with friends. All the chatter is interesting, sometimes obvious, sometimes insightful, other times a true reach, but it rarely tells me what I want to know.
I had a dream the other night which featured an all-star cast of real-life friends, a library, a cross-country road trip– I was the destination– in search of delinquent birthday wishes (Happy Belated Birthday, Stephen), two meetings, a seven passenger old fashioned boat of a Buick, and a full car nap—all accompanied by its own soundtrack, “If it keeps on rainin’ the levees gonna break.”
Given this handful of details, there’re all kinds of interpretations begging to be deciphered.
But I only care about what it meant.
I remember thinking in the dream, as I drove the boat and sang along to Led Zeppelin on the car radio, that these lyrics could indicate my stress level—I must be under pressure and if keeps on growing, I’m going to break.
Except I’m not.
I’m in a good place work-wise, my volunteering is under control, I’ve actually had a few open days in my “booked” schedule.
Maybe my subconscious just has good taste in music?
Unfortunately for our dry conditions, it doesn’t seem to have been a forecast.
Then I dreamt that I had to drive up a vehicular escalator–that was freaky—which delivered me into the lobby of a bank or other business building. I was confused and not sure where to go next when an irate employee directed me to go down to the parking garage, through the lobby then down a perfectly normal ramp.
It makes me wonder if the only things I remember are the irrelevant parts. The true purpose of my dreams lost on my conscious mind.
A teaser with the tagline, HA HA, made ya’ dream.
Last night I dreamt that my sister-in-law who just returned from her honeymoon bought a Hollywood set. It was 20ft long x 4ft wide, ran along the back wall of the room. It was not supposed to be against the wall, enabling it to be shot from all angles, but since she wasn’t doing any filming, it was just art. The model was a beautifully crafted to-scale miniature of a neighborhood bordered by a highway complete with on and off ramps in a cloverleaf pattern. It was autumn, the trees were colorful, and there were people tending to their daily business, cars driving. I almost recognized it—the movie title was on the tip of my cortex, but then I woke up.
I haven’t even spoken with her since she returned. What does my mind know that I don’t?
“Have a good night, Mare,” my dad used to say to me.
I don’t have nightmares, haven’t in a very long time. It’s not that I don’t have scary things happen in my dreams; it’s just that I don’t react to them with fear. I’ve been shot, I’ve been lost, I’ve been stalked. I stabbed an intruder with a bone folder not too long ago. Don’t let my passive paper-crafting demeanor fool you. Holding my own doesn’t seem to be a problem, but I have noticed that I have trouble screaming in my dreams. Open mouth, squeak escapes. Hmm.
Occasionally I’ll have a complete memory of a dream. I LOVE THAT! I’ve written several short stories that way. I once dreamt an entire plot to a television sitcom. The characters, dialogue, episodes, promo poster… look for it on NBC fall of 2013. (I wish.)
How often do you dream? Do you remember them? Do you know what they mean? Do you care?
I’m afraid I’ve reached the end of this dream cycle. It’s been active for several nights now, wonderful hours of surreal sleep. I’ll miss it the first night I wake up with nothing. But I know it will be back.
I believe that a dreaming night is a good night, Mare.