Sofia wrote:Yeah. If that's true, I hate to think how many dreams I've had at night that I may have forgotten ...
Dreams are great fun to remember and relate, esp. if you deliciously strange ones.
I've had nights where I actually remember three or four dreams when I wake in the morning. It's usually after a long period of lacking sleep, though. It's interesting to have dreams lead into each other, though. I had a dream where me and my dumbshit friends were hanging out, and we decided to go down to our old school and play football. I was, of course, kicking ass, since all my friends are kind of little, and I could basically walk in a touchdown with the other team hanging on me. Then, things got all stormy, and we're dumbasses, so we just sort of hung around and kept playing, thinking the rain and lightning just added to the atmosphere and the fun of it. Then, there was a fucking tornado, and we all booked it like crazy. I was actually trying to break into some stranger's house to hide from the damned thing, but I didn't quite make it, and the twister kicked my ass.
Then I woke up in bed, into another dream. It took me a bit to figure it out, but generally, I figure out I'm dreaming when a light doesn't work or something. This time, it wasn't that, it was just how oddly time was passing. Eventually, I thought I had it figured out: I figured I'd actually died in the tornado, and this was a dream that was simply the last few seconds of brain functions before everything went poof, and all bodily functions ceased. I asked my brother if this was the case, and he apologized, but said it was.
It was shit, because I didn't want to be dead. I thought about all the bloody peoples I'd never get to say goodbye to, including my dumbfuck friends, my brother, sister, family, my girlfriend, all the Amandas I know... it was shit, because I knew I had shit to say, and the best I could do was talk to my dream-facade of them.
Eventually, the dream was coming to an end, and everything went all blurry and dark... and I figured this was finally it, I was going to be completely dead. Then I realized that death felt surprisingly warm and comfy, and then that my dream had tricked me. I felt good that day, too, because I wasn't dead, so all my shit wouldn't end up completely unresolved.
It was a wicked dream, and I was scared as all fuck, but it actually improved my appreciation for life, so I'm not too pissed. Although I still gave my brother one smack for lying to me in my dream, since that is something he'd do in real life. In fact, he tried to convince me that day that I had died, and this was just another dream, and that I'd be stuck in slipping into new dreams for all eternity.
