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stoopbeckI usually don't dream. Well, that's not quite true... I dream, but I hardly ever remember it anymore. I don't know why. It's been that way for at least the last few months.
The last three nights I've been dreaming vividly. In technicolor, as they say. Brilliant, heart-wrenching technicolor.
Three nights ago it was that my cat had died, we stripped her flesh from her bones and put them in a plastic Tang container. Yeah. I don't know. Then I wandered around Lanark for hours, losing articles of clothing in the process, looking for a proper burial site. I ran into some people in various stages of undress. Your typical "Oh, God, I'm naked in front of other people" dream with a twist. At some point the dream shifted to my cousins saying hurtful things to my brother and myself. I nearly woke up crying, unusual in and of itself.
Two nights ago, it was that I was some kind of robot or something. I was in a classroom filled with other robots and we had to take final tests to ensure that we were robot-worthy or something. The first test was a math test. On the first question, an outrageously hard one, my eyes suddenly stopped working. I couldn't focus. I tried to tell the instructor, but he told me I had to just keep going. I sobbed because I knew I wasn't going to be able to make it. People from my school past were also robots in the class, and they had kind-sounding but vicious words for me. Then, near the end of the time allotted for the test, my eyes cleared up. I struggled through the first problem only to find out it was the only real math problem on the test. The others were like, "Name three colors." "What comes after five?" "What's your favorite tv show?" I went through it as fast as I could, but time was up. All I could say through my tears was "Just wait until I take the English test." Again I nearly woke up crying.
Last night was almost normal for the most part. I had typical dreams [for me] but there was a feeling of wrongness about everything... and then I was this old man, who was remembering being a kid, out with his best friend, who went to some fireworks display in an Italian Depression-era community that had rockets and something else that I no longer remember. Then they went back to their own community. There was also a fireworks display there. The person doing it was tall and thin and inept. He screwed up. Instead of the rocket hitting the other rocket causing a beautiful explosion of light, the second rocket only redirected the first massive rocket towards the square we were all in. People froze. I, in the persona of the boy, jerked my hand out of my mother's and booked it into the ditch outside the square. The rocket hit. People died. I ran back, scared and desperate to find out who remained. I ran into my mother, but was afraid to look for my friend. So afraid that I sobbed and told her I didn't want to know if he was alive or not. I'd rather be ignorant. And then I saw the friend, alive, but I couldn't stop crying. Sobbing helplessly. And then I woke up.
What does it mean? I wish I knew. Dad interpreted the first two for me... he said the first one was about loss or something, and the second was about my changing majors from Computer Science to Creative Writing and the struggle therein. I wish he were here to interpret last night's.
The last three nights I've been dreaming vividly. In technicolor, as they say. Brilliant, heart-wrenching technicolor.
Three nights ago it was that my cat had died, we stripped her flesh from her bones and put them in a plastic Tang container. Yeah. I don't know. Then I wandered around Lanark for hours, losing articles of clothing in the process, looking for a proper burial site. I ran into some people in various stages of undress. Your typical "Oh, God, I'm naked in front of other people" dream with a twist. At some point the dream shifted to my cousins saying hurtful things to my brother and myself. I nearly woke up crying, unusual in and of itself.
Two nights ago, it was that I was some kind of robot or something. I was in a classroom filled with other robots and we had to take final tests to ensure that we were robot-worthy or something. The first test was a math test. On the first question, an outrageously hard one, my eyes suddenly stopped working. I couldn't focus. I tried to tell the instructor, but he told me I had to just keep going. I sobbed because I knew I wasn't going to be able to make it. People from my school past were also robots in the class, and they had kind-sounding but vicious words for me. Then, near the end of the time allotted for the test, my eyes cleared up. I struggled through the first problem only to find out it was the only real math problem on the test. The others were like, "Name three colors." "What comes after five?" "What's your favorite tv show?" I went through it as fast as I could, but time was up. All I could say through my tears was "Just wait until I take the English test." Again I nearly woke up crying.
Last night was almost normal for the most part. I had typical dreams [for me] but there was a feeling of wrongness about everything... and then I was this old man, who was remembering being a kid, out with his best friend, who went to some fireworks display in an Italian Depression-era community that had rockets and something else that I no longer remember. Then they went back to their own community. There was also a fireworks display there. The person doing it was tall and thin and inept. He screwed up. Instead of the rocket hitting the other rocket causing a beautiful explosion of light, the second rocket only redirected the first massive rocket towards the square we were all in. People froze. I, in the persona of the boy, jerked my hand out of my mother's and booked it into the ditch outside the square. The rocket hit. People died. I ran back, scared and desperate to find out who remained. I ran into my mother, but was afraid to look for my friend. So afraid that I sobbed and told her I didn't want to know if he was alive or not. I'd rather be ignorant. And then I saw the friend, alive, but I couldn't stop crying. Sobbing helplessly. And then I woke up.
What does it mean? I wish I knew. Dad interpreted the first two for me... he said the first one was about loss or something, and the second was about my changing majors from Computer Science to Creative Writing and the struggle therein. I wish he were here to interpret last night's.
