To Sleep, Perchance To Dream

I wrote something today, beautiful and poignant.*  It disappeared into the ether, so instead you will get this word vomit.  Enjoy.

My dreams are vivid.  I have recurring nightmares from childhood; I have recurring dreams that are full of joy.  I have lucid dreams.  I have dreams that have been long forgotten that sometimes are remembered by the smallest things: smells, a specific hue, a melody… and the dream in its entirety comes rushing back at me.

In my dreams, I can see the most vibrant of colors.  In my dreams I can smell things.  I can taste things.  I dream up sounds.  I incorporate sounds the sleeping me hears.  I touch and can feel touches.  My dreams are my playground.

I have dreamed up lovers that are so perfect, so amazing that, upon waking, I am slightly saddened that they never actually existed at all.

I have had dreams that influence my attitude toward people that I know in the waking world.

I have short dreams that segway into others.  I have dreams that are so long, so real, so vivid, and descriptive that they could be novels.  I have dreams that pick up where they left off.

I have died once in my dreams.

I have some dreams I never forget.

I cannot remember any of the dreams that I have had recently.  Not one.  Upon waking, I can remember that I had one, but I can’t remember the shape, the feel, the texture of them.  Just that they were there.  Briefly.  Only the wispy outlines.

And I am a little different because of it.

So if you’re listening…….I miss you, Morpheus**

*This is not the opinion of the author, but an actual fact.  But I can not prove that this is the case, as I lost the first draft, so you’ll just have to  believe me, won’t you?

**Sandman, King of Dreams.  Brother of the rest of The Endless: Destiny, Death, Destruction, Despair, Desire and Delirium

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