I've always been a dreamer, in the literal sense. From a very young age I've been able to remember my dreams, and once I started a dream one night and finished it the next. This sounds great, and I've had some seriously fabulous nocturnal journeys through time and space, but on the flip side, not all dreams are good ones. I've had some proper toe-curling nightmares, and some of the worst ones have been in my adult years.
The reason this is on my mind particularly right now is that I had a pretty gnarly one night before last, and during yesterday's aforementioned pestering phone call to my sister I told her about it. She told me that her boyfriend had been doing a little reading about dreams in general, and had researched (and actually put into practice) a tactic of dreaming deliberately. The research he found described the way to consciously go to sleep with a certain event or setting in mind, which basically ensures where your dreams will go. Apparently this also entails being able to discern while you're mid-dream that what you're seeing/feeling is not actually happening in real life, which sounds like a pretty desirable talent given my nightmare history.
The one I had the other night saw me in Texas, driving to my stepmother's house, but I got hungry on the way and stopped for fast food. For some reason, in the parking lot of the restaurant I got out of the pickup. As I went to get back in the driver's seat, I saw one of the dog creatures from Avatar (the ones that look melted, and yes, I can hear you sniggering already...) running toward me. I leapt back into the truck and in my head was screaming at myself to shut the door before it got too close, but in typical dream fashion my arms wouldn't move fast enough and it got in the door. I was choking it with my forearms when I woke up in a cold sweat at half six in the morning. Himself told me later that day that I woke him up around three, shouting in my sleep.
Speaking of Himself, he's never remembered a single dream. In his life, he's never woken up and known he'd dreamt anything. There have been a couple of instances in our four years together that he's had a nightmare, kicking the duvet and shouting in the middle of the night, sometimes even intelligible words that told me what he was dreaming about, and he's still completely bemused when I recount his actions to him the next morning. Even with the nightmares, I wouldn't trade our nocturnal consciousnesses for the world. When I was young, I used to dream three or four times a week that I could fly. I still remember with a clarity that usually only accompanies real life memories the feeling of running down the street where I grew up, beginning to swim in the air (using breast stroke, for some reason) and taking off. I would fly all over my home town, occasionally landing in trees or on roofs and taking off again... those were marvellous dreams, and I miss them.
I'm told that all dreams have meanings, and flying dreams are meant to indicate a sense of general freedom in your conscious life. Guess I'm too grown up to feel so free now... *lol* Speaking of grown up, I need to get something to feed Himself tonight, so enough waffling about dreams. Here's hoping all of you in Texas are having sweet ones right now. x