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