I almost never dream. Really. Once a year at most. So last night, or rather early this morning, was special.
I woke up very early. It was still dark outside. I was still tired. I had no business being awake. So I closed my eyes and my mind and slipped back under. And that’s when the dream began.
In my dream, I looked over at my laptop and smoke was pouring out, between the keys. It was startling enough to wake me up. Why? Because I love my laptop? Because I was scared of losing my data (it’s backed up on my server each night)? I don’t know, but I woke up, suddenly, and looked over at the laptop (it sleeps beside me on one of those laptop caddy tables) and realized I had dreamed the mishap, because there it was, twinkling happily at me.
So I closed my eyes, and my mind, once again.
And another dream. This time I was on the street, walking, and I ran into a woman I’ve only run into once before. She was happy to see me. And I was surprised to see her. She caught me with my mouth full. I was eating Tootsie Rolls, and my mouth was full of sweet saliva. So of course, she wanted to kiss me, and she did. She doesn’t seem to notice the Tootsie Rolls on my breath as she forces her tongue between my lips.
And I woke up again.
Two dreams, one morning. Wow, that’s like a record for me. When I was a kid, I used to dream pretty regularly. But my dreams were the most pedestrian things you could imagine, and I could NEVER separate them from reality. I used to dream things like I had gone out to the drugstore and purchased the new issue of The Amazing Spiderman. I would wake up and later in the day, not knowing I had dreamt the purchase, I’d literally tear my room apart looking for it. And even then, realization was more of a logistical thing – since I couldn’t find the comic book, I must have dreamt it. Other times, I’d dream I’d eaten a huge amount of food, and I wouldn’t be able to eat anything until dinner time, and still, I often wasn’t hungry yet.
I did have a recurrent flying dream, which I know is common, but as crazy as this may sound, I didn’t know that it was a dream. Seriously. I spent much of my youth, believing that I could focus my concentration internally when I ran, and if I was steadfast, my feet would leave the ground a foot or two, and I’d be running on air. I used to try it when I was outside playing, and sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t.
I don’t remember dreaming either the successes or the failures. They’re absolutely the same in my memory, then and now.
Maybe dreams are really repressed reality?
Hmm, if you didn’t think I was crazy before…