Dream Log
Ever since I could remember, I have had trouble sleeping because of my dreams. This may be hard to believe but in my 31 years I can only remember having one good dream. All the rest range from completely bizarre to absolutely terrifying. Most of them involve me chasing something or being chased or fighting something horrifyingly evil. Often, in my dreams, I’m falling either from a narrow freeway that spans across a large city or I’m trapped in a skyscraper that’s collapsing down. Sometimes I’m on the ground and the buildings are falling on top of me. Many of my dreams include monsters, vampires, swarms of bugs, bats and strangely enough, superheroes.
Rarely can I sleep for more than three hours at a time without being shaken out of a dream; and it’s only when I’m completely exhausted that I sleep soundly, because those are the times I don’t dream. Or at least I can’t remember them.
I think the worst though is, every now and then, I’ll dream that I’m paralyzed. I’ll be in bed, completely under the impression that I’m not sleeping or dreaming, but I’m unable to move. I begin to panic and try to scream, but my vocal chords are paralyzed as well. So I scream on the inside start crying. One time I had the paralyzed dream while I was sleeping on the couch in a funny position; cutting off circulation to my legs. When I woke up, I tried to stand up and went face first into the coffee table. Luckily I don’t have this dream too often.
It may sound strange, but I’ve only had sex in my dreams once. I once had a dream that I was going to have sex with the hottest girl I’ve ever seen. She was so beautiful, I think she only existed in my mind as opposed to her being someone I saw in real life. Anyway, when the moment of truth came, I told her I didn’t want to have sex because I didn’t have a condom, and was afraid of getting AIDS. You can imagine how pissed off I was when I woke up. I literally said to myself, out loud, “Dream AIDS?!?! Are you retarded?!?!” I kept trying to go back to sleep to get another chance, but that didn’t work.
A few months ago, I talked to a therapist about my dreams, and she asked me to start writing a dream log. Every time I’d wake up from a dream, she said to go straight to the computer and start typing. If you haven’t ever done this, I highly recommend giving it a shot. It’s pretty trippy to watch your memory fade right in front of your eyes. I would start typing and by the time I was done, I completely forgot what I typed. Of course the major parts of the dream were still in my head, but the tiny details would vanish.
I only followed through with my dream log for a few days because it really started to freak me out, and it wasn’t helping me sleep any better. Anyway, last night, I came across my dream log and read it for the first time since I wrote it. At first, I didn’t even know what it was because I had no recollection of ever writing it. It was like reading someone else’s words.
Today, as a little treat for you all, I’m posting an entry from my dream log. Keep in mind it is unedited and exactly how I typed it when I woke up from the dream. Enjoy:
3/19/05
I’m staying at my grandma’s house in Bayside. I have to sleep there for some reason… to get up early for something. The next door neighbor makes my mother angry because she has her car stereo turned up too loud in the morning. I listen to my mother complain but I take the neighbor’s side. I pick my nose trying to get at this one booger in my right nostril. I pull it out. It’s thick and strong… like rubber glue. It comes out in a long continuous string. So I pull and pull. By the time I’m done, I have about a golf ball sized ball. The last part is almost completely black. I think it’s what was plugging up my nose. I show it to my mom and carol, completely amazed by the size of it.
I’m somewhere with friends. There’s this guy there. He’s tall and skinny, and has blonde medium length to short receding curly hair and a goatee. He sort of reminds me of the tall guy who is always on “Who’s Line is it Anyway?” He is bossing and bullying and pushing us around but I can’t remember why. No one wants to stand up to him. I don’t know what he does or says to anger me but I fly off the deep end. I yell at him at the top of my lungs that he better not do whatever he did again. I start pushing him in the chest until I pin him on the couch. He tries to get up but I have great strength and he can’t move. My voice is loud and deep and intimidating and I wonder if my friends are impressed with its authoritative qualities. I look up and see they are relieved that someone has stood up to this guy, but I can tell that they also think I’m bluffing so they’re laughing. I can’t help but smile too, but I also know that I’m not bluffing… I wanted to scare the guy, but at the same time I was fully prepared to really let him have it if he tried to call my “bluff”. For good measure I threaten him. I tell him if he does “it” again, I’ll beat the crap out of him and make him suck my dick. I tell him not to think I’m kidding either, because I’m into sick shit like that, and I’ll really make him do it if he tests me. This time I look at my friends and really start chuckling at the complete absurdity of what I had just said. I look back at the guy and I see he’s crying and curled up in the fetal position; a fraction of the bully he used to be. I start to feel really guilty that I came down on him so hard, but then I start to feel angry at him for making me feel guilty when he was the one that tried to bully me first.
We are participating in a Native American dance ceremony in the woods somewhere. It looks like a wild-west attraction theme park. We’re instructed to park our cars then stand in a rectangle. I’m there with friends and the skinny blonde bully guy is there too. He’s still upset and so am I because now I feel like the bad guy. The music starts and everyone starts dancing. People are pulling into the “theme Park” late for the dance and it bothers me that they should be allowed to join. I’m not dancing. I’m not in a dancing mood until everyone joins hands and starts dancing together. I get caught in their connected rectangle and decide to just have fun and dance.
I’m in Sonny and Cher’s dressing room. Cher is wearing a brown suede jumpsuit and a jacket. She has an Indian headdress and feather earrings. Around her neck is a “collar” made of rings of bamboo maybe with feathers attached. I think it’s designed to be a chest plate. I take notice of the collar and tell Sophia “that’s what you wanted”. Cher says that Sonny bought the outfit for her, and she likes it except for the fact that her whole midsection is exposed.
There is some sort of cartoon character sitting on a public toilet. You can’t tell if this character is a boy or a girl. It has short spiky hair and thick large round glasses. For some reason it has to bend over and hold a cookie in between its butt cheeks. When it does bend over, I’m surprised to see that the artist has given the cartoon character a vagina.
