I went back to bed when we came home, like I said I would; and fell asleep almost immediately. I even dreamed. It was about me, some strangers with their baby, and a childhood friend who I haven't seen in years (come to think of it, it has been awhile since we had just even a phone chat). It's extremely bizarre that I would dream of her, since I had incorporated a character by the same name into my book just recently (and because to my immediate knowledge, I never have dreamed of her before).
Well, I suppose I have been watching too much of The Walking Dead; because there were zombies, too. And not surprisingly, we had a massive throng that broke the - can you guess? - chain link fence. My friend, who hadn't aged at all, was just a girl and she was terrified; and for some reason I was playing the role of her parent. I suppose my creative, unconscious self hates zombies; because all the furniture was perched all nice and snug on the top bunk of a bed. I'm not even sure why I was so proud of it; all the ladders were in the cellar, the furniture was upper-floor level and the zombies could have easily gotten me. But anyway, here we are climbing these ladders, terrified of and prepared for a war that never came; listening to a baby laughing as we watch all these zombies spill out into the yard.
I used to be able to control my dreams; which isn't even untrue. I could control my own movements, what I said, what I did, where I went. Not the situation itself, but me. And I would have this voice telling me, "It's alright, it's a dream. You're asleep, safe at home."
But now I can't do that. The fear has always been real; but now I don't have that voice, telling me I'm safe. The dream version of me is much more scared.
This one time, in a dream where it was rainy, I controlled a car even though I wasn't in it. Another time I was searching this glorious mansion and the forest beyond it for my sister, who had completely changed her appearance and was living outside in a barn with no doors, with a bunch of other people and a bunch of cats; and I barely recognized her as I walked by. And the mansion was in the middle of moving in, and I was sidestepping all these burlesque men in their tees, and all I could do was ogle the house and the farm animals I would see from the giant windows. Another time I was running through a house, my family was with me and we were in danger; and this damn house kept manipulating its shape, taking away all the exits or making them lead right back inside. Another time I was two inches tall and living in a Styrofoam house. Another time I had climbed a tree to rescue a possessed bird egg. In all of these dreams, I could control my actions.
That's not even the weird part. The weird part is that all went away when I blogged about it for the first time, asking anyone if they could relate. Now when I dream of zombies, I wake up thinking it was real. And then I calm down and wonder why my dreams aren't as special. They're still very vivid, but I miss the days when I could control the dream version of myself. It sounds more than crazy, and I wouldn't be too surprised if I'm tracked down and locked up; but it's true. They're just made less predictable now, and the fear I feel in my dream is actually still there when I wake up.
Yeah. I hear it too. Sounds psycho. If I wasn't the one it was happening to, I probably wouldn't believe it either.
Well, I suppose I have been watching too much of The Walking Dead; because there were zombies, too. And not surprisingly, we had a massive throng that broke the - can you guess? - chain link fence. My friend, who hadn't aged at all, was just a girl and she was terrified; and for some reason I was playing the role of her parent. I suppose my creative, unconscious self hates zombies; because all the furniture was perched all nice and snug on the top bunk of a bed. I'm not even sure why I was so proud of it; all the ladders were in the cellar, the furniture was upper-floor level and the zombies could have easily gotten me. But anyway, here we are climbing these ladders, terrified of and prepared for a war that never came; listening to a baby laughing as we watch all these zombies spill out into the yard.
I used to be able to control my dreams; which isn't even untrue. I could control my own movements, what I said, what I did, where I went. Not the situation itself, but me. And I would have this voice telling me, "It's alright, it's a dream. You're asleep, safe at home."
But now I can't do that. The fear has always been real; but now I don't have that voice, telling me I'm safe. The dream version of me is much more scared.
This one time, in a dream where it was rainy, I controlled a car even though I wasn't in it. Another time I was searching this glorious mansion and the forest beyond it for my sister, who had completely changed her appearance and was living outside in a barn with no doors, with a bunch of other people and a bunch of cats; and I barely recognized her as I walked by. And the mansion was in the middle of moving in, and I was sidestepping all these burlesque men in their tees, and all I could do was ogle the house and the farm animals I would see from the giant windows. Another time I was running through a house, my family was with me and we were in danger; and this damn house kept manipulating its shape, taking away all the exits or making them lead right back inside. Another time I was two inches tall and living in a Styrofoam house. Another time I had climbed a tree to rescue a possessed bird egg. In all of these dreams, I could control my actions.
That's not even the weird part. The weird part is that all went away when I blogged about it for the first time, asking anyone if they could relate. Now when I dream of zombies, I wake up thinking it was real. And then I calm down and wonder why my dreams aren't as special. They're still very vivid, but I miss the days when I could control the dream version of myself. It sounds more than crazy, and I wouldn't be too surprised if I'm tracked down and locked up; but it's true. They're just made less predictable now, and the fear I feel in my dream is actually still there when I wake up.
Yeah. I hear it too. Sounds psycho. If I wasn't the one it was happening to, I probably wouldn't believe it either.
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