I have really vivid dreams. It used to be that I slept so deeply that if I dreamed, I didn't know it. But since I've been married, I remember my dreams every night. I didn't realize this until I started telling my husband about my weird dreams--they are always weird--and he commented about how often I dream. I didn't believe him, so I started keeping track and found out that he was right. I dream every single night.
A few weeks ago I dreamed about going back to school, but instead of going back to college for a graduate degree or another bachelors, I went back to junior high and then high school. And all the people I went to school with--all the people I thought I never really wanted to see again--were in my dream. It was almost a nightmare. And that's just one example.
A few months ago, I dreamed about my sister-in-law Catherine. In my dream she'd written me a note, and since I apparently have a junior high mentality, I had to write one back. But when I gave her the note, she took one look at it and said, "You spelled my name wrong. See?" And actually, I had. I'd spelled it "Cathirine," which is a ridiculous way to misspell her name. You'd think that I would have spelled it with a K or left out the first E instead of changing it to an I. But she actually wasn't concerned about the I. She was concerned that I'd left the accents off of both of the Es. I gave her the weirdest look while she showed me because all I could think was, "Wouldn't the accents make your name sound like Cath-ay-rin-ay?" But she didn't notice my confusion; she just said, "Usually I don't worry about the accents because it just confuses everyone. But I thought you should know." Since we're family, you know.
I think I'll address their Christmas card to John and Cathériné Rains.
But the point is, last night I had another very strange dream, this time about my little brother, who is serving a mission for our church in Ohio.
At first Paul (my little brother) and I were out wandering around a park with some other people at night. I'm not sure why, but we were. But while we were out there, this little tiny lamb comes frollicking along from behind a bush. It was like a pygmy lamb--I'm not sure if those exist--because it was so tiny and cute. It was all alone at first, but soon a whole lamb family followed. The lambs were grazing, and most of us were just watching the lambs, but a few were playing with and cuddling the small sheep. All was happy, until we realized that there were wolves nearby, and we had to protect the lambs. (By the way, what were pygmy lambs doing in an urban park, wandering free and wild? And also, if you had a pet pygmy lamb, and you took it for a walk in the park, would you need to obey leash laws?) So we gathered in a circle around the wolves (Why? To my awake self, this seems stupid. Apparently my subconscious is extremely unintelligent, or has a death wish) with torches, to scare them back into their cave. Which actually worked, after some snarling and barking from both sides.
But then the scene changed--dreams are so bad at transitioning smoothly--and I dreamed that we were at college, and Paul was a sophomore who somehow got assigned to senior dorms. So I went to check on him, 'cause, you know, that's what older sisters do. And of course Paul and his roommates were playing video games. (Do college boys do anything else? Okay, they chase girls and play video games. In my experience, those are almost the entire extent of their extracurriculars.) So my friends and I (oh, yeah, I had friends--crazy dream) started to check out their place (Again, why? College boys have never been known for their tidiness or concern with sanitation. Again, evidence that my subconscious has a death wish), which had three floors, by the way, but the tiniest living room known to man. When we made it to the basement, what did we find but a rack of old bridesmaids' dresses (which, of course, were the ugliest I have ever seen) and formals and one wedding dress. What were they doing there, you ask? I never got to hear the reason--I'm sure Paul had one--because Jason's uncle woke us up by pounding on our bedroom door before 9 am. This, I told Jason, is why we will never actually live with his grandpa like his aunts want us to so much: we will never have privacy. Someone will always come pounding on our bedroom door early in the morning, and I will always want to poke their eyes out with a rusty fork. It wouldn't be good for familial love.
Anyway, when I wrote to tell Paul about the dream, I made sure to point out the silver lining in the dream: obviously, I've been thinking about him. The bad news is that I've apparently been wanting him to fight wolves and cross dress. Maybe simultaneously.
I told you I have weird dreams.
