In My Dreams

I have mentioned before my paranoia as a kid. I have mentioned that I slept underneath enormous comforters and giant stuffed animals to try to protect myself against all of the possible things that could harm me while I was sleeping.  When I was a kid, I had many nightmares that caused me to wake up in the middle of the night, ensconced in my protective cocoon, frozen, afraid to move.  I liked to play dead under pounds of fabric as my safety mechanism.

I don’t know when it was when I stopped remembering my dreams, but I now hardly ever wake up with a cognition of what my dreams were. So when I wake up and vividly remember the nightmare that I had just experienced, it stands out. It happened to me this week. I had a crazy, scary dream that I was listening to the radio because NASA scientists had just made contact with extraterrestrial beings and were attempting to communicate with these beings, and these communication attempts were being broadcast on the radio.  I don’t know why this terrified me so much, but it did. I woke up in a cold sweat under the heavy comforter I still need to sleep under even in the middle of a North Carolina summer. I felt an additional weight pressing down on me.  It was Knightley, who was sleeping on top of my chest.  I don’t know why he chose to do that on that particular night, but that sensation of a heavy weight pressing down on my chest (Knightley isn’t the lightest little dog) was so calming after waking up terrified that there were aliens in my bedroom.  It made me feel safe.

I fell back asleep and whatever mental process is responsible for dreams was kind to me. Instead of my dreams greeting me with more frightening sounds and images, I dreamt that I was at the doctor’s office and the doctor told me I was pregnant. I woke up actually remembering that dream too.  It was crazy to me to have two dreams on the same night that were entirely memorable for completely opposite reasons, but I guess that is just the way my subconscious works.  I appreciate that in my dreams it doesn’t matter that my uterus lacks the perfect symmetry and perfection of the “golden ratio” (If you need a little help remembering how important the “golden ratio” is to nature, that second link is to Donald Duck in Mathmagic Land, which we loved to watch as kids).

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