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One of the things that sets me apart from my friends is that I almost never remember my dreams. All of the people in my close inner circle have fairly regular dreams that they remember. I don't. I never really have. Part of that, I believe, is my aversion to nightmares.
When I do have bad dreams I can usually remember them. It's always the unsettling ones that cling to my mind (such as the straight men who picked on me in middle school tied naked to the fence by our PE teacher) never the more mundane or ordinary ones.
For instance, I can still remember this dream I had years ago, though I can no longer remember what age I was when I had it. I can even remember the green-tinged black and white colors of it, and that it involved a bubbling witch's cauldron that would change the gender of anyone dipped into it. Rather tame, really, as far as nightmares go, but I remember it scaring the shit out of me.
Last night/this morning was a similar case. I was dreaming that I had a split personality, and that the alter ego was a serial killer named Moe. He would signal the take-over of our shared body by saying "Moe is angry!" and then almost immediately killing someone. My mind provided Hollywood-esque visual clues as to when Moe was in charge by giving him a white face with blue marks spreading from the side of his lips. Other odd imagery filled the dream, such as an abundance of grainy mirrors and bow-tie tuxedos.
It sounds rather silly to describe out loud, but it was seriously scaring the shit out of me. I kept jerking myself awake to avoid returning to the dream.
Bad dreams have always been a thing for me. When I was the praying kind, I used to pray specifically for "good dreams or no dreams." I wish I was kidding. What's interesting about that prayer is that whatever effect it may have had has apparently continued long past the time I continued to say it. To this day my sleeping mind is blank, unless punctuated by the odd nightmare. My inner atheist remains unconvinced about what this means.
When I do have bad dreams I can usually remember them. It's always the unsettling ones that cling to my mind (such as the straight men who picked on me in middle school tied naked to the fence by our PE teacher) never the more mundane or ordinary ones.
For instance, I can still remember this dream I had years ago, though I can no longer remember what age I was when I had it. I can even remember the green-tinged black and white colors of it, and that it involved a bubbling witch's cauldron that would change the gender of anyone dipped into it. Rather tame, really, as far as nightmares go, but I remember it scaring the shit out of me.
Last night/this morning was a similar case. I was dreaming that I had a split personality, and that the alter ego was a serial killer named Moe. He would signal the take-over of our shared body by saying "Moe is angry!" and then almost immediately killing someone. My mind provided Hollywood-esque visual clues as to when Moe was in charge by giving him a white face with blue marks spreading from the side of his lips. Other odd imagery filled the dream, such as an abundance of grainy mirrors and bow-tie tuxedos.
It sounds rather silly to describe out loud, but it was seriously scaring the shit out of me. I kept jerking myself awake to avoid returning to the dream.
Bad dreams have always been a thing for me. When I was the praying kind, I used to pray specifically for "good dreams or no dreams." I wish I was kidding. What's interesting about that prayer is that whatever effect it may have had has apparently continued long past the time I continued to say it. To this day my sleeping mind is blank, unless punctuated by the odd nightmare. My inner atheist remains unconvinced about what this means.
