Thursday, September 20, 2012

"A dream is an answer to a question we haven't yet learned how to ask."

This morning, I woke up before my alarm, which is not unusual. What is unusual, however, is that I was crying. Not, like, sobbing or anything, but my eyes were definitely teary and not because I was jabbing myself in the eye all night long (I don't think).

No, it was from a very vivid dream about my grandma, which is unfair because WHAT? I'm sure it's because our anniversary was earlier this week and I pretty much can't think about our wedding without wishing that Grandma could have been there (she was too sick) and without remembering that she died only a month later. Having such a happy event tied up with such a sad one is very mind-bendy and apparently my dream-mind couldn't handle that shit last night.

It was Christmastime in my dream, something that always reminds me of Grandma, though she wasn't there. Even in my dream, she was gone. But someone, an aunt, I think, had found gifts she'd gotten for all of us before she died, that, for dream-logic reasons, it had taken two years to uncover. And as I read the card that was attached to my gift, I started sobbing and apparently my brain couldn't handle all the feelings because it woke me up and RUINED MY MOOD FOR THE REST OF THE MORNING. I'm fine now. Just ridiculous.

Do you ever think about how genuinely fucked up it is that we dream? I just watched the season 4 finale of Buffy last night and, for those of you not in the Buffy-know, that one's about something infiltrating the dreams of four characters. And it's WEIRD and wonderful and just a really good example of how dreams are WEIRD and sometimes not so wonderful. For every flying-through-the-air-like-Superman dream, there's an equally disturbing dream about loved ones lost or falling off a cliff or, for me (again last night), being dragged down the elevator shaft at work by a terrifying ghost-like creature.

Did I tell you that where I work is haunted? The company I work for runs three arts facilities in Dayton and, though my office isn't in the haunted building, I'm over there often and I've heard all the stories. I'm not sure why my brain turned the work-ghost into an angry demony creature (she's supposedly very harmless) but that could just be a byproduct of watching Buffy right before bed. Oops.

But anyway, dreaming = fucked up, right? I mean, RIGHT? Like, even when it's awesome, it's fucked up, because...OK...dogs dream, which is adorable and all, but OMG WHAT MY DOG IS DREAMING. Which means he has hopes and fears, even if they're, like, "I hope I catch that squirrel," or "MUST PROTECT THE HUMAN FROM VACUUM."


Don't get me wrong, I'd never want to stop dreaming. I might miss out on something good, like the time I FINALLY got accepted to Hogwarts. I can only assume that one was prophetic.

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