Remembering dreams is more difficult than nailing jelly to a wall. But sometimes, whether because you awoke right in the middle of one or because the details of some are more impacting, some of the details and emotion hang around after you’re wide awake.
There are a few dreams of years gone by of which I still remember the primary theme and emotional impact. There was one I had in our first year of marriage of my wife leaving me (something she has never threatened). There was the one at least a year ago of my dad dying (he's still alive in real life). In both cases there were tears on my face when I awoke.
Two categories of dreams that occur on occasion are 1) the natural-disaster-is-upon-me dream, and 2) the someone-is-trying-to-kill-me-and-my-legs-are-molasses-and-my-voice-has-stopped-working dream. Both categories have visited my dreams in the last couple nights.
In the second category, this woman with hideous Frankenstein-like scars on her face and Margaret Thatcher-on-a-windy-day-like hair kept coming after me with murderous intent along with her pet (pig?), who was also trying to kill me. I believe I was either trying to imprison her or kill her. I think it was the latter (though there’s often no logic to dreams, as you well know), because I think the predominant terrifying thought in my dreaming mind was, “She just won’t die!”
The natural disaster dreams are interesting afterwards, though adrenaline-stirring while I’m dreaming. (It’s amazing I can have such dreams and still actually be RESTING at the same time. Maybe I’m not actually resting at the time.) I’ve dreamed of tornadoes, and I remember one of waking up (in my dream, that is), walking outside, and seeing a solid wall of water, reaching for the sky, coming straight toward our home from the east (and this was long before I had seen Deep Impact).
In my latest natural disaster dream, a few van loads of friends were stopped at a rest area at the foot of a small mountain, where many of us were tossing around a few footballs. The earth then shook for a few seconds. We continued our recreation.
At the second rumbling, I ran to the foot of the mountain on which I observed a chain-link fence stretching from the foot on up, along with several power lines suspended along the mountain. As I was noting this, another tremor sent a bucket of white powder tipping over at the base of the mountain, and I held that to be ominous. So I quickly turned tail and started running to the vans (instinctively knowing that the rest of my party instinctively knew the danger that I was sensing and thus they were returning to the vans as well).
Explosions started ricocheting down the mountain, explosions that threatened our very lives. But when I got back to the van, we were missing my friends Dawn and Scott. I ran back to the mountain, I think, and observed a couple scurrying down the mountain. Yeah, it was Dawn and Scott.
The next thing I know, I was running back to the van, knowing that the van was going to leave without me if I didn’t get back soon--it had to, you know.
So there I was skirting rails on an upward ascent to the road where the vans were leaving. Finally, as the van pulled away, I ran up beside mine and swung in through the open passenger door over the top of Dawn, who was sitting in the passenger seat next to Scott, who was driving. The rest of my friends, including Wes and Mary Caroline and apparently Adam were all accounted for in my van. Scott apologized for starting to leave, but there was the danger. I waved it off with an “I understand.”
Next thing I knew I was getting frustrated because I found out from Adam that my son got up after he went to bed the previous night to play games with Adam and others for most of the night. (I guess my day was just going from bad to worse.)