Last night, I dreamt, but once again I remember almost nothing about it.
I have the vaguest wisps of what I dreamt in my mind. There were people, and we were all trying to do something, and it wasn’t working out. That’s all I have. Next to nothing. Compare this to a dream journal entry from about two-and-a-half years ago:
I was in the middle of a race, where you had to sing at the top of your lungs while keeping pace with your partner. One person was to run forwards, and the other was supposed to run backwards. However, those of us who were running backwards kept looking over our shoulders. Several of us actually turned all the way around to face forward. The judges and event sponsors grumbled at this, as we were obviously not interested in the traditions that these events were meant to honor. I finished the race both embarassed and depressed.
As I left the field, there was a small boy, who was in a line holding hands with an older woman, flailing his other hand towards me until I grasped it. “We’re all supposed to be holding hands,” he scolded. I smiled a “well isn’t that cute” smile to the older woman. She just glared at me.
I looked at my medication, and noticed that my familiar “peach” pills were joined by some chalky blue pills. The pills’ coating was wearing off, and I could see that some of them were a dull white undeneath.
During this time, I had apparently boarded a bus. As I sat down I remembered that our group had to move from one place to another often, for saftey. I stood up and went to talk to our leader, a young Asian man in a black suit. He looked at me, confused, and it became apparent that I had been told more than once that if I talked to him he would hurt me.
I shrugged, and he moved behind me, placing both hands on my sides. He then squeezed, causing an intense pain to shoot through my body. He patted me on the shoulders and I sat down, crying.
We exited the bus, and I made another mistake of trying to go through the revolving door of our destination at the same time as him. This time, he simply shook is head.
The building turned out to be a hotel. In the lobby, I was approached by a brunette woman who indicated that she and I weren’t actually part of the group, but rather this was a cover so that she and I could continue our affair. I told her that I wasn’t interested in having an affair, and she insisted that it was too late, because the paperwork had already been filed. I told her that I had to contact my bank, because this was starting to sound like a confidence scam.
Then I woke up.
I think this has something to do with the fact that I’m waking up and immediately getting ready for work. Jennifer has listened to me more than once offer up my opinion that dreams may be spontaneously created, or at least embellished, by the act of remembering them. Maybe I’m ruining myself for dreams with my hectic schedule.
I do know that sometimes a full set of dream circumstances will be remembered during the day. If that happens, I’ll be sure to write them down.