In Which She Discusses Dreams

I've been thinking a lot about dreams. I'm not talking about "Gee, I wish I won the powerball" types, but actual, real dreams.

I put a lot of stock in what my mind conjures at night. I believe that if you pay attention, your nighttime wanders are telling you something.

Everybody knows I'm not a sleeper; could go for days on 4 hours sleep. I hate it. My mind simply won't shut down. It refuses to remain inactive, which is why my dreams are so important and telling.

Like when I've not thought about someone for a while, and she appears in my dream, just tells me that I've been pushing thoughts of her down, deep in my subconscious. Which, as we're all aware is a deep, dark, roiling pit. Nobody wants to be there. I always say it's a good thing that my mind can't be read. I'd be sent far far away where nobody would ever see me again.

For whatever reason, my dreams have been more vivid in the last couple of months. Lots of waking deja vus. So many recurrences. And lots and lots of visits. People I haven't seen in years, or thought of in months. Relatives dead for years as well as ones with whom I no longer talk. Some pleasant and beautiful conversations. Some are things never before spoken.

I gauge my reactions and try to remember how I acted in dreams, in case the opportunity presents itself during waking hours. Case in point: I have a couple of unsettled relationships, blow-ups and never see agains. Stuff left unsaid. Shitty things done. You know the type. One of these particular persons shows up in my dreams regularly. I always embrace her. Ask how she's been, and tell her it's lovely to see her. Waking...if she walked in front of my car, she'd become a speedbump. Seriously, I have murderous thoughts toward her, her husband their whole family. Pets included.

Aw, c'mon. You all know you imagine these little scenarios. Little vignettes where a manhole cover blows off the street, high into the air, and lands smack on someone, flattening her. Visions of the funeral where you'd wear red high heels and dance the electric slide over her freshly-turned grave, tucking a rose from off the casket spray behind one ear. How much better the world would be with her obliteration... sigh...I digress...

I receive a daily email from The Universe, wherein The Universe discusses how a person's thoughts become things. Everyday is a new message on becoming the person your mind is directing you toward being. Sort of an "if you dream it, you can do it!" type thing.

Sweet Jesus...I hope not.