I dream a lot.
I used to write down my dreams every night. And I remembered even more of them when I did. I have books and books of them written down. With everything going on, it seems that waking up to write down my dreams is just too much effort, so I don't remember as many. But I still dream.
I think that my dreams mean something, though sometimes it seems that they are nothing more than my brain making up for the fact that I don't watch movies. Not that I am EVER able to figure out what they mean.
Anyway, I had a dream last night. A frivolous dream, I thought, until I told Stephen about it this morning. He said it wasn't a very good dream. It didn't seem that bad to me, but I guess that would depend on your perspective. You see, I have A LOT of nightmares. Wake Up Screaming nightmares. Nightmares that are sticky and I can feel and remember them hours later. Nightmares during which I cry in my sleep.
I have nightmares so bad that while I was with Stephen in England, one night he slapped me awake, and it was wonderful. I needed and wanted him to. Because it got me out of it.
Ok, so last nights dream, as told to Stephen this morning:
Amy: I was taking a class and the final exam was to go out and be the first one back with a newsworthy story...
Amy: and there were hundreds of people in the class
Amy: so a mad rush to get out of the building
Amy: so many people that I`was having to climb down the sides of the stairwell
Amy: and you met me at the bottom.
Amy: we walked in the parking lot, and I thought about doing a story on the bumper stickers of the cars in the parking lot, and hypothesising presidential election results based on political bumper stickers
Amy: when a guy from the class drove his car into a crowd of people, then jumped out and ran into the building to write a story on it.
Amy: and i was in such shock. i couldn't make the phone work. so you dialed 911 for me.
Amy: and it jumped ahead
Amy: and the guy apparently had a son, whom we adopted.
Amy: who hated us, and the dream ended with the three of us outside talking about how his dad would never get out of prison
Stephen: not that great a dream
Amy: and him plotting to kill us and attempt a prison break.
Stephen: eek
Amy: it was like a cliff hanger movie.
The guy had driven his car through a chain link fence and into a huge crowd of people, killing as many as he could. There was blood and screaming and all kinds of mayhem. And he jumped out of his car and left it there in the midst of all the destruction and death and ran in to write about his newsworthy story.
At the end, when the son is plotting to kill us, the three of us are standing beside a well. He has a piece of foam core board and an X-acto knife and is cutting a shape out of the interior of the foam core board while he is questioning Stephen and I about his father. I thought it was going to be a person shape at first, but it ended up being a very sloppy giant X.
Spending time with you the other day, Christine, made me stop to ponder the fact that there was a well. But I still have no clue what it means.
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