I've been struggling to snap this little patch of writer's block I've been hit with for about 5 days now, so my friend suggested I check out some sites that give writing prompts, to kind of get the creative juices flowing again. One of the sites I found seemed to focus on two subjects very heavily - writing speeches, and writing about dreams, or dream-related subjects. I'll do the speech one next time, because there were a few that seemed like they could be fun. Today I'll discuss dreams.
I decided against using one of the prompts from the site, for reasons that will become clear very quickly.
Can I not grasp them with a tighter clasp?
I've always envied people who remember their dreams upon waking. I only remember a handful of dreams per year, if I'm lucky. More often than not I wake up with no recollection whatsoever of having a single dream.
Allegedly people who consider themselves to be creative tend to remember dreams more frequently. Likewise, restless sleepers and people suffering from depression and/or anxiety. All of these are applicable to me, so why am I not remembering dreams?
It could partially be attributed to the meds I'm on, as many antidepressants and antipsychotics tend to suppress dreaming. But I was unable to remember dreams long before I ever went on meds.
I don't enjoy sleep, so that may be another factor. I've always felt like time asleep is time wasted. People think I'm joking when I say that but it's the absolute truth. Granted, dealing with minor insomnia (which, at times, has been major insomnia) has probably influenced that attitude.
When my wife and I first started talking, I lived alone, the only time in my life I've done so. At one point I decided I would see how long I could stay awake. I hit 94 hours before deciding to sleep. The only reason I even did that was because she and I were going to meet in person for the first time the next day, so I wanted to be refreshed.
I went to bed early (for me) because I figured I would sleep longer than usual, to catch up a bit. 9:30 rolled around, I went to bed. No lights, music softly playing, a warm comforter, perfect sleeping conditions.
Around midnight I finally drifted off to sleep. I was awake at 4:30. In the morning. Yes, after approximately 4 days of no sleep my body was completely fine with only getting 4 1/2 hours of sleep. And as you can probably guess, I didn't remember any dreams.
I stand amid the roar/ Of a surf-tormented shore.
The last dream I remember having was before Halloween last year. It was a kind of creepy one, from what little I can recall, something having to do with being chased down an alley, or some such nonsense. It was one of those dreams that seem pretty common, the whole feeling in danger, threatened, etc. thing.
Normally the dreams I do remember tend to fall into one of two categories - frightening, or sexual. It's very very rare that I remember dreaming about anything else. The sexual ones, in all honesty, bore me. Sure, they're fun in the moment, but they're no more vivid or exciting than the daydreams I have on a regular basis, or fantasies that I've imagined.
The real interest, for me, is in the dreams that are frightening. They don't interest me because they are enjoyable, by any means. Quite the contrary. Usually the bad dreams I remember involve someone I love being hurt physically, or even killed. What is truly terrifying about that is more and more, when I do have one of these dreams, it's one of my children that are being hurt/killed. Every time I have one of these dreams I wake up in sheer panic, sweating like crazy, and have to walk around the house for a few minutes to calm down.
But I never go into their bedroom to see if they're ok. As real as these dreams have felt at times, they've never been real enough that I'm still afraid for my boys after I wake up.
When I was in high school, I always had this problem where as I drifted off to sleep, I'd have quick dreams about global catastrophes - earthquakes, floods, asteroids, whatever. They would always happen right as I fell asleep, then it would take me hours to go back to sleep. It would happen almost every night, and I am positive it was the beginning of my insomnia issues.
I've often wondered if it is because of these episodes that I also don't remember dreams frequently. Obviously I can't say whether or not I remembered dreams when I was a kid. I am pretty certain, though, that it was around that time when I knew I wasn't remembering dreams frequently.
It may fall into the realm of sharing a bit more than you care to know, but I also never had the whole "wet dream" phase teenage boys go through. It's never happened to me a single time. Can't say I'm overly saddened by that, but at the same time, it almost feels like I missed out on a little part of growing up, perverse as it may be.
I don't know what it says about me that I don't remember dreams. I kind of remember hearing or reading when I was younger that not remembering dreams was somehow linked to mental illness of one sort or another, but things I've read more recently have pretty much said that's a load of crap.
Whatever it means, if anything, isn't really a big deal. Sure, I'm missing out on some conversations about dreams with people at work from time to time. (Fun fact - I usually just make something up if I'm ever included in those conversations.) And yeah, dream interpretation is, for me, pretty useless, even though I find it fascinating. But that's OK.
I'll get my three to four hours sleep tonight, probably not remember any dreams, and wake up feeling like I only slept five minutes. You know, a normal night for me. Here's to hoping it's not a night where I dream about the kids. Because that is never fun.
Title and subtitles from the poem "A Dream Within A Dream" by Edgar Allen Poe.
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