Perchance to Dream

Sometimes I wish I remembered my dreams.

I have a dream journal on my bedside table.  However, it’s gray with dust and I’m not sure if the pen still works.  The last entry was jotted down more than six years ago.  Dreaming, of course, requires one to sleep.  That’s something I have a hard time doing.  Still, the nights when I can get to sleep, I rarely remember it.  It’s as if I blink and it’s morning and the alarm is going off.  At best, I’ll slowly fade in from a deep warm feeling.  Sometimes I’ll wake up with a nagging sensation like I’ve forgotten something important.

Meka says she dreams almost every night and remembers most of them.  Not only does she dream in color, but the colors are more intense than in the waking world.  She says she has some ways to tell herself she’s in a dream.  When she reads something, for instance, it never reads the same thing twice.  From there, she’s able to take charge of the events in the dream.  Often times, she tells me, she likes to go flying.

If I have ever flown in my dreams, I don’t recall it.  I do remember having a recurring dream where I slowly fell into a deep, dark cave that seemed to stretch into forever.  The walls were made of brown rock.  Every so often a piece would stick out into the hole.  I had to stretch myself out or curl into a ball to avoid them.  I saw Alien when I was nine years old.  I remember having an on-going dream where the monster had grown inside someone, but hadn’t burst out.  Instead it was wearing their skin like a Halloween costume, controlling them.  It was slowly chasing me around, calling for me in the person’s voice.  However, I could tell it wasn’t really them.  The alien’s feet had burst out and its sharp claws scraped against the bare floors.

19991104aWith dreams like that, maybe it’s a blessing I don’t remember them!  However, I have always tried to pursue my dreams, even the nightmares.  The alien sound of claws scraping inspired to write a story called Figments of the Imagination in high school.  Another became elements of a short story called The Changed.  One of the last dreams I recorded in my journal is very creepy.  I started working out a novella from it, but – unfortunately – I woke up before the dream ended, so I don’t know how the story ends.


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