Friday, November 1, 2013

Mr. Sandman send me a dream

I've always been amazed we don't remember most of our dreams.   Funny, (peculiar) how our brains are wired not to.

I don't mind not remembering the bad/nightmare dreams, even though some of them have me wake up screaming.  Which, if you recall, throw me into a fit of giggles I cannot control.

I certainly don't mind remembering good dreams, that end the way I want them to, however, considering I'm apparently in control of my dreams and everyone in them I do find it amazing I don't remember many of the good ones either.

Then there are repetitious dreams, the ones I've had over, and over, and sometimes over.  Right before I moved to California I had two whoppers of those, both were horrible, and I'd wake up in a sweat.  In one I was on a stage in a huge empty theatre, I would be standing in front of a wall to wall, thick, plush, scarlet red, velvet curtain.  The theatre would catch fire, and I would try to escape behind the curtain, to find the area behind the stage was wall to wall snakes and I could not get out.  Right before that second when I knew I was going to die...I would awake.   

In the other I would be flying (floating)...without wings...just above the power poles and wires.  I could talk to people on the ground, and everything would be hunkie-dorie, until I would decide I was tired and wanted to be back on the ground only to find I could not return to earth.  Would I die up here from hunger, thirst, the elements?  It was horrible, because eventually everyone would leave, and I was left terribly alone. 

Funny, (peculiar) as soon as I left my hometown and moved the continent away I never had either of those dreams again...yet to this day I remember them vividly; I ponder what those dreams meant, and why they ceased once I moved to California.

Then there are the dreams about certain men in my life, and how one in particular is a frequent visitor, yet the one I would most like to dream about, I never do...what the heck is up with that?  If I'm in control of my dreams and what's in them, shouldn't I be able to have him in all of them?

Lastly there are the dreams that start out good, and turn bad.  I had one of those just about two hours ago.  (Interestingly, I tend to remember more the dreams I have just before I wake up in the morning.)  But, I digress. 

This morning my dream involved my moving to Montana...  MONTANA...never, ever in my life have I had the desire to move to and live in MONTANA.  Oh, the property was beautiful, nestled against a majestic mountain side.  The place we moved into, was not...and although I tried to fit in and belong, I was miserable, I worked hard, painting, hammering, nailing, sawing, trying to fix the place up, but I wanted to leave.

At this point I realized I was young, and told the woman I had moved with I wanted to return 'home', that I would stay and work till the end of August, but at that point I would return to the civilization, school, and the world I knew and loved.

Oh, how the atmosphere changed.  I realized the people I had moved with to Montana were never, ever going to allow me to leave.  The dream had taken an ugly turn.  Fortunately CC jumped up onto my chest and I woke up.

Here's the thing.  I've been thinking about that dream ever since, and have been trying to come up with plans and schemes on how I could escape from my dilemma.  I think it would have been better not to have remembered the dream at all.

What I do know is, I have got to stop watching the Investigation Discovery Channel.  I think I'm starting to go down a bad path.

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