Years ago, say a handful, my grandma asked “do you still have all those vivid dreams?” It was the first time I wondered if not everyone dreamed…or dreamed very much. Dreams have seemed like such a wonderfully mystical everyday part of life I even did an elementary school report on them. I cherished the report, though the research may have been above the abilities of my single digit age. Cherished…until a classmate, egged on by the other boys in the class, asked “so why do we have wet dreams?” then he and all the other boys collapsed into proud giggles and blushes (yes little boys giggle too). The girls were astonished into silence or embarrassed by their own knowing giggles. My own dream, of amazing with an eccentric school report, was crushed. Think of it as the dream where a black widow spider designed to harmlessly scare someone else comes after you instead.
In case you’re concerned I woke up before the spider could get me and then made sure to stay awake for some moments (say a couple tosses worth) so that I wouldn’t fall back into the dream spider’s poisonous fangs.
Dreams are nice as a whole. You can see the future, bob through the sky on air pockets, curiously sink like a stone to the bottom of a river to live in the kelp, or spy a herd of proofs (fawn-like creatures the size of redwoods) standing between the forest trees of a fantasy land. You can eat the best ever cheesy mashed potatoes or a mediocre steak. You can move to a cottage in sight and sound of an ocean or plan the seasonal menu of your bakery cafe.
Not that I want a bakery, it’s just a fun way to occupy some time. I imagine my brain must get awfully bored during the night without dreaming. The same concept applies during the day. This week my imaginary bakery started serving mini ice cream sandwiches. First up was oatmeal cookies with rum raisin ice cream and peanut butter cookies with vanilla ice cream rolled in chopped salted peanuts. We received raves.
In reality, these ice cream cookie sandwiches were a dream come true. I forced myself to force the extra cookies on my co-workers after giving myself a lecture on the selfishness of keeping ten sandwiches. Though that might be better described as a bribe.
Now, if you’ll excuse me I made plans to take a horse drawn carriage accompanied by a talking platypus. They are the most congenial hosts.