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Saturday, July 29, 2006 

A little bit disturbed

I never used to remember my dreams. Generally I told people that I simply didn't dream. Of course, I am pretty close to certain that that is physically impossible, but I never had anything to look back on when I woke up every morning. There wasn't even the remnants of a vaguely remembered piece of imagery, or the echo of something that somehow my waking brain just couldn't seem to grasp.

Recently, in the past three months or so, I have started to dream. More recently, my dreams have been so vivid that I've woken up and been convinced that the things that happened in my dreams actually occurred. Some of them are completely outrageous and I've known that of course they didn't really happen. For example, when I woke up after my dream that I was both Pierce Brosnan, and a boy I fell in love with in first school's mistresses (at the same time, it got quite complex for a while and was highly amusing), I was pretty sure that it hadn't happened. It sort of felt like it had, but only in the same way that you remember something as if it's your memory but is actually something you saw in a film or on TV. It can be a bit blurry and though you can visualise it, it sort of feels like you experienced it while wearing rubber gloves.

But some other dreams have been so vivid, so... I don't even know what the word is... real, that I've woken up and actually thought it had happened. I dreamt that I slept with one of my best friends (female) last week and my ex boyfriend walked in (eurgh, Freud would have fun with my dreams). It took me until lunch time to realise that it wasn't a real memory- it hadn't happened! It wasn't until I was putting the kids to sleep later that evening that the guilt of being a lesbian and being found out by him started to ease off. I'm not a lesbian, and have never until that dream had any sort of tendencies in that direction, but it was weird. It was also extremely disturbing. Don't get me wrong, she's a lovely girl and I do love her, but I just like men that little bit too much and women... well, erm... not so much.

And every single one of the dreams I remember has been completely fucked up. Last night I dreamt I joined the navy and had to shave all my hair off and I cried. The uniforms were awful too, and they made me eat porridge. I like porridge generally, as long as its made in a specific way and is served with molasses, but this stuff was the icky gruel from Oliver, not the way my grandma used to make it when I was a sprog. This fat girl that Stacey and I have hated since food lessons in year eleven was there, and so was the ex boyfriend (from above, featured in the lesbian nightmare too). It was all extremely wrong and I didn't enjoy it at all. Judging by the twenty minutes it took me to just work out how to untangle my duvet this morning (I'm not kidding, I'm not the best at making beds in general, but this morning I was really having problems) I really had a rough night. I must have been thrashing about in my sleep to get pillows down by my ankles and half of the sheet pushed right under the bed.

I don't know what it is. How could I go from no dreams to a horrifying number that I don't just vaguely remember, but still remember vividly (and somewhat disturbedly) weeks later? I don't have a clue how to stop them, where they're coming from, or how I even know how to be a lesbian. But I don't like it.

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i always have very vivid dreams, and just recently posted about one that involved an affair with President Bush... i, however, love having crazy, vibrant dreams. they're like gifts of other lives.

If they were just crazy and vibrant then they wouldn't be so bad. My problem is that they simply aren't nice. They're like films where you can't identify with any of the characters- they're interesting, and seductive, some have the makings of fantasy if you're into that sort of thing, but they're not. Fantasies are enjoyable, these are just plain freaky.

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  • An albatross can fly for thousands of miles without getting tired. I've always thought that love is similar to flying, therefore we should aspire to be like the albatross.

    I don't know if I can do that. So far I haven't been so lucky. But one day I'll test my wings with someone, and flying won't be so hard after all. Or so painful.
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