When people tell me they had a weird dream, I just have to shake my head. Mine are always weird. It’s like I eat a bucket of Chinese food right before bed. There is absolutely zero sense to them. I also rarely remember them. I think it’s because my brain files it away in the “Let’s Never Think of This Again” file. And I don’t because I can’t remember.
Sometimes, people have those dreams where they’re falling then they wake up and find they aren’t. I woke up to find that I actually was falling. Straight out of a hotel bed. Thank goodness I caught myself because the floors are made of cement and a thin cloth they claim is carpet.
People sometimes dream about how they don’t have pants on and they’re in public. I’m the one dreaming that I can’t find my pants or am having trouble putting them on like my legs are covered in glue. For some reason, I also can never pack anything in my dreams. This may be because in real life I always feel like I’m forgetting things when I go somewhere. Usually, I do.
There’s that dream of running and your legs not moving fast enough. If I fly in my dream, I kick my legs like I’m swimming. Or if I try to stop my car it won’t, no matter how reliable my brakes are in real life. Sometimes I have super powers, other times I’m aware that I’m dreaming.
The other night, I dreamed I was visiting a friend who doesn’t live at the beach, but who did in the dream. The house was up on wooden risers “in case the ocean gets too close”, or so I was told. I looked down at the risers and saw the ocean right there under the house and I said, “Makes sense.”
No. It doesn’t make sense. Dreams just don’t.
I should keep a dream journal just so I could shake my head at what my own mind comes up with to entertain itself during the long (short, actually) hours I’m asleep.
It’s like, “Brain, I’ve entertained you all day. Relax!”
And my brain says, “Ummm…no.”
If I went to a psychiatrist and told him my dreams, I know what he would tell me.
“Stop eating Chinese food for supper.”