Dream A Little Dream
I’ve started to remember my dreams. Yeah, this might not seem remotely noteworthy to goddamn dream-remembers like you lot, but for me the ability to recollect dreams the day after is a new thing.
In the past I didn’t forget every single one, but I can probably only recall dreams once every couple of months. Usually I wake up with a confused feeling or a sinking feeling in my stomach without any idea as to what may have caused it. Over the last couple of months though I’ve started to remember more. It’s like I’ve hit my head somehow and reconnected a broken dream synapse in my brain.
I’m slightly disappointed with my subconscious.
It seems that I don’t dream fantastic adventures in which I’m a hero, no it seems that my evil sleeping brain is as much of a pain in the arse as the one that pisses me off throughout the day.
Current dream categories:
- The repetitive number dream.
One of the few dreams I remembered was a recurring dream I had when I was running a temperature, in which my brain would count in repetitive number sequences or perform word puzzles, such as anagrams. I wrote that off as the actions of a fevered mind but it seems I do that at others times as well. The other night I dreamt about the square of the numbers 1 to 30. Over and over again.
- Ridiculous self-analysis.
I’ve tried to stop my day brain from over analysing everything it has ever done and every possible thing that could happen. It’s time wasting and leads to madness. There is no surprise in life if you try and work out all the possibilities that might happen. Still, it seems that when I’m asleep that my brain does exactly the same thing. I won’t go into details but the other night I replayed several traumatic events out in my brain. All in fucking technicolour. I woke up with a stomach in severe turmoil.
Everyone has odd dreams that are strange and funny, but as I’ve never really remembered these, I’m finding this new ‘skill’ rather disturbing. The other night I dreamt that I ripped the jaw off a crocodile and them punched its half-face repeatedly until it was a bloody dead pulp. I woke up, half excited and half fearing on the revenge the crocodile under the bed may wreak on me. I moved my feet back under the covers for added protection. Crocodiles can’t bite through a duvet.
I’ve had over 30 years of poor dream recollection. It’s a frightening world in there.