I have the weirdest dreams. No seriously, they take the cake on oddity. This has been confirmed by more than just me here.
In order to get the full picture, you need to imagine all the dreams I'm about to tell you of in old school technicolor. That's how I dream, always has been, always will be. Complete with film grain.
We're talking REALLY old technicolor. BTW this is
The Black Pirate. To my knowledge, the first feature
length film done in full color. (It's a silent movie if that
gives you a frame of reference)
|Just for comparison on what I imagine dreams should look like.|
OK, got that picture in head? Good, we're ready to move on.
When I was a kid, I only ever had nightmares. They were a little odd, like killer lambs that lived under the bed and my sister and I (who shared a room) had to jump from bed to bed to avoid being eaten.
Or trolls lived under the bed and they'd throw out these spiked rod things.
|Kind of like this but with a lot more spikes and the|
spikes being sharper.
I remember kneeling down on one in the dream and feeling the pain of the spikes entering my knees.
Mostly I blame the monster under the bed dreams on my brother, who would hide under the bed so he could grab my ankles when I got up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. And who would also telling me that the glowing eyes under the bed were monsters when it was just the stupid cat.
I remember the first good dream I ever had, that's how rare they were. It was about a prince killing a witch, which is TOTALLY NORMAL. That would be the last dream I ever had resembling anything close to normal.
The next good dream I had featured me randomly changing genders (and hair colors) part way through and running around town singing about how great the stick of celery I'd won was Broadway musical style.The towns people joined in with the singing and the dancing as I passed by, and soon the streets were filled with everyone singing about a frickin' stick of celery!
It was all down hill from there.
Some of my off the wall dreams have proved to be inspiration for stories i.e. The Hell Deep Series, the book tentatively titled Alive, A God of Wrath, a screen play I half wrote years ago called Resting Grounds. You get the picture.
My inner muse has gotten so good that when I have a dream that could be used for a story, I get a narrator that reiterates character names and key plot points. Then, I'll awake into another dream where I'm telling someone about the dream I just had that I'm going to turn into a story and go over it point by point. This will happen two or three times before I actually awake. These dreams are brilliant and I pray they never stop!
For the most part though, my dreams are just effing weird. To demonstrate this, I'm going to take an except from a conversation with Tony (my husband for those of you who don't know).
ME: I have the weirdest dreams
TONY: How so?
ME: I'm going to say three words that should explain it all, "Scandinavian boob scraping".
TONY: What?! WHY?! *head is obviously hurting at this
ME: Well, I was in Scandinavia. Oh, I guess I should explain why I was there. I think it was to adopt a kid because at one point, I grabbed a two-year-old boy and was all, "I'm taking this one home". But he didn't want to come with me because he didn't want to leave Scandinavia.
Anyhow, there was a boob disease going around- yes, that's what they called it. I kept thinking there should be a more technical term for it, but nope. The way they were testing for this infection was to scrape puss off the nipples, which I would think if your nipples were producing puss, that'd be a pretty good indication you had an infection. Don't worry, I didn't have the boob infection. There was just a list of people who needed to have their boobs scraped.
TONY: I think I've figured out why you have such bad insomnia. You're afraid to have dreams like that.
ME: The thought has crossed my mind.
TONY: You don't think I'll protect you? (my husband is very manly. I love it :))
ME: You can't protect me in my dreams.
TONY: Says who?
ME: You're not even in my dreams. Well, that's not true, but when you are it's because there are two of you and I'm dating both of you and trying to decide which one to go for. But it's impossible to choose because you're actually both the exact same person!
Yeah, my dreams are weird, and apparently Scandinavian children don't want me to adopt them. Oh, well.