It’s been interesting to read about dreams this week on the blog. I want to jump in there too, to tell about my interesting recurring dream with a scuba diving elephant and a time machine, but I cannot. I dream about exactly what I think about when I fall asleep. If I am worrying about having my son in childcare, I have a dream about children being stolen from daycare. If I am worrying about money, I dream that I have lost my wallet. It’s just that unimaginative. When the BLB was little and not a sleeper, I was usually too tired to dream, and when I did, I dreamed that I was tired. Yep. Not stuff I exactly need a dream journal to figure out.
I don’t understand why I am this way and it hardly seems fair, considering I am a writer and should therefore be able to create all kinds of awesome worlds staring Leonardo DiCaprio and Ken Watanabe in my subconscious. It never happens. Like some kind of creative dreaming 101 student, I only dream what I know. Sadly I know neither Leonardo DiCaprio nor Ken Watanabe. I know taking walks on the bike path (yep, dreamed it. Saw a dog. Crossed the park. Came home. Woke up.) and making coffee and taking a shower. One time when I was trying out one of those prescription sleep pills during a stressful time in my life, I dreamed I took a shower and when I woke up I was… actually in the shower! Surprise! Bad surprise! (But probably a good thing I didn’t dream about taking a drive…)
There’s just no new material. As Amy from Gone Girl would say, even my dreams are derivative (and Nick would add that saying my dreams are derivative is derivative). Come on, neurons, tell me something I don’t know!
But what my subconscious does do in dreams is tell me things I might not know I know. The other day I was falling asleep stressing about the publication of my novel (preorder your copy now and save me some stress, would you?) and I dreamed that I was celebrating a book launch party with my friends. “Hey, doof,” said my subconscious. “You already wrote your book, and got paid for it, so time to party and enjoy the ride.” One time, when a loved one was keeping a secret from me, I had a series of dreams that I was really angry at said loved one but I didn’t know why. And, when I was pregnant with my Beloved Little Boy but didn’t know if he was a BLB or a BLG or a BLH, I dreamed he was a turtle, a dragon, and a boy. He was only the third thing, and there was a 50% chance of my subconscious being right, but that’s not the point. I knew. (And he really likes dragons and turtles. So you be the judge.) And why did I know? Probably because I got a glimpse of some anatomy I wasn’t supposed to see during the ultrasound and was willing myself to pretend I didn’t see it so I could keep the surprise.
Tonight I’ll probably dream about dreaming about boring things, and be forced once more to get my imaginative yayas out on the page during the day. But then, if just before sleep I curl up with the last few chapters of Deb Kerry’s new book, which is coming out in a matter of mere days, there will be nothing boring about my dreams at all.
Assuming I don’t stay up all night reading…
What about you? Ever had a dream that seems psychic, until you realize your brain was just Sherlock Holmes-ing together some clues you didn’t know what to do with during your waking hours? Or are you actually psychic? In which case, what am I thinking right now, hmm????