I guess I'm not so weird after all. Turns out a couple of my recurring dreams are shared by many. Not every last detail, thankfully, but the gist of these recurring dreams is surprisingly common. One dream is liberating and magical, the other a harsh dose of "I'm in college-age deep shit now and I can't believe I let this happen".
THE FLYING DREAM: In this one, I develop the supernatural ability to fly. I fly over beautiful landscapes, arms outstretched, dreamily euphoric. Sometimes I ascend to great heights, then zoom low for a better look, effortlessly maneuvering around majestic rock outcroppings. Occasionally I fly indoors, often in gymnasiums where my ability to slam dunk draws gasps from the crowd.
I am told that such drams are a sign of good mental health. Sounds reasonable, but why then do I sometimes find myself surrounded by a forest of high electrical lines threatening immediate death by electrocution?
THE UNEXPECTED FINAL EXAM DREAM: This one leads to a restless sleep. I find myself back in college near the end of a term. Suddenly I realize that for the last few months, I haven't attended any classes, read any of the material or prepared for finals in the slightest way. What to do? Is there any way to avoid failure? And what would failure mean in my life? How could I, a normally responsible person with a record of solid academic achievement to that point, allow this to happen? Oh, the horror!
I hear it's fairly common to experience "worst nightmare" dreams too, so I guess I'm not as neurotic as I once thought. In real life, I don't think I'm neurotic at all. So why does this dream pop into my sleepy brain several times a year? Is there part of me that needs reminding that if I don't stay responsible, the consequences will be bad? That people will think of me as being an undependable flake with a questionable reasoning skills?
In truth, I've had far worse dreams than the recurring final exam dream. The one that really bothers me deals with death and has me as the central figure in an unsolved murder. When this dream starts getting really ugly, there's nothing I like more than waking up to remind myself that hey, it was just a dream.
My favorite dreams? Once every couple years, sometimes when I'm in a foreign land, my dream takes on a quality so realistic that I am find myself completely immersed as if the dream is actually real, and in the dream, I am interacting with a historic figure at an important point in time. In such dreams, the experience is so poignant that in my mind, the dream is inexplicably real. Once when I was in Paris, I had a dream in which Napolean and I spent a few enjoyable days of friendship together. This was pre-Waterloo and his later exile. "Nappy", as I called my newfound chum, was musing to me about his rise to power, the joys of conquest and sharing personal thoughts in the way close friends do. Another time, back in the days of pirates, I walked the streets of Christiansted, St Croix in the US Virgin Islands on a night with scattered clouds and a full moon, savoring every moment of danger and intrigue. Although both dreams occurred years ago, they are permanently etched on the bedrock of my memory, both occupying a treasured place.
I never studied dream interpretation and don't pretend to understand what all this nocturnal nonsense is about, but I must admit, for the most part dreams are wonderful things. Very often my dreams are whacky as hell but there's something about how the sleeping mind works that fills me with gratitude. With a few notable exceptions.
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