Thursday, August 1, 2013

Dream a Little Dream of Me...

I have weird dreams. Like almost every night. So I've decided to start a dream journal just to keep track of all the tomfoolery going on in my noggin.

Last night I dreamed about the zombie apocalypse. There was a whole group of us trying to hide from the zombie hordes, and everyone felt the inexplicable need to talk at the top of their lungs. To be fair I watched World War Z a couple of weeks back, so I can see where that dream might have come from.

The night before, I dreamed I was riding a white stallion and it tripped as we were moving down a steep embankment. We landed in a water-filled ravine on top of a white colt that appeared from nowhere. It was weird.

Sometimes it seems my dreams are segues into stories that I'm writing. They fill in spaces I haven't been able to complete when I'm awake. Other times they cover things I am worried about. Those usually  manifest in the form of my teeth and the losing of them. I hate those dreams. I don't know of anyone who enjoys losing their teeth in their dreams. Or in reality for that matter, but I seem to have an especially strong desire to keep my teeth in my head.

For example one day shortly after my last baby was born, I went out for a run and tripped on a concrete booger in the middle of the road. After a futile attempt at trying to prevent the inevitable, I found myself lying facedown in the street. I knew I was hurt. I hit every bend-y part of my person on the way down and scraped up whatever was left. I even managed to slice open the inside of my lip. I got mad skills.

A neighbor saw me go down, and rushed out to help me. She asked me if I was okay, and the first thing I asked her was if my teeth were still in my head. She was unable to hear me the first time because my mouth was full of blood, but I asked her a second time if my teeth were still in my head. She seemed confused by my question, but assured me they were (though I search the ground just to be sure she wasn't trying to shelter me from the truth).

Once I was certain I still had my teeth, I picked myself off the ground and proceeded to limp home. It was only after I was certain I still had all my teeth that I succumbed to the shock and embarrassment of falling. I swear I hit the ground, so hard the earth moved. It definitely shook my brain. I fell on my face, but somehow scratched up the back of my shoulder. I am a mess.

So to make a short story long, the point of that narrative was to illustrate my discomfort at the thought of losing my teeth. Therefore dreams wherein I lose my teeth are basically horrifying.

I have also had, from time to time, recurring dreams. When they show up, I know I need to pay attention. For example:

I had a recurring dream that Mr. D. sold our house out from under me, under the guise of moving us closer to work. However, he did such a horrendous job that not only were we still just as far from his job as before (only on the other side) we also had to live in an apartment. Right or wrong whenever I had one of those dreams I woke up in a foul mood, mad that he had sold the house again. Bear in mind, my husband would not: A. Sell our house without my knowledge, or B. Cause us to live in an apartment because of his shenanigans.

It did turn out though, that when it was time to sell our house he had to do it without me (after a fashion), and we moved to a place just as far away from his work as before, just on the other side.

Prophetic dreams? That is a post for another day.


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