I dream vividly. I dream in color without exception, but in my dreams, all of my senses come into play. I don’t know too many people who dream as often or in as much detail as I do. I’ve found that everyone thinks their dreams are crazy, until I share one of mine. On any given day, I wake up confused about whether I’m actually awake. I really have a hard time when I’ve already dreamed that I’ve done the waking up, and I’m doing it again, because I’m not sure if I’m pouring coffee while awake or dreaming. I usually figure it out as time goes on; when the kids get up or when a magical purple mist comes floating out of the dryer.
It goes both ways, the vivid dreaming. Great for both intense erotic dreams and horrifying nightmares, this way I dream. I’ve been afraid to sleep, for fear of dreaming, and I’ve met a handful of people who can say the same.
As I wrote it on my phone at 3am, here’s a glimpse into that sort of imagination from Friday night’s dream:
The shadow of Suspender Sam and his wide-brimmed hat appeared under the length of the lowest hanging oak branch. He crawled up the side of the tree, not unlike a monkey, and watched as The Mister and I played in quicksand. I had told The Mister I didn’t wanna play in quicksand, but he said it’d be fun, as he tied a rope around my waist and his own. He anchored us to the clothesline poll and pulled me to him. Quicksand was gray, with bits of gravel, smelled more like neem and loam than Georgia clay. We bobbed about in the swamp, from mangrove to mangrove we went, as though our rope was endless. We saw ourselves and everything around us with the night vision of predators; gators nodded to us from pale tree roots, fish suctioned the backs of my calves, methane burst and settled in dense, humid air. I grew anxious and fearful as we headed east toward the sun. I was afraid of burning skin, of fire ants, and of the men who carry weed-whackers. The Mister lassoed our rope onto an old white birch and I swung us with my feet, like a child on a swing set: one, two, three! Shot out into the night air, away from the sunrise, we hurled through the sky until I saw our house and wished us back there. Unfortunately, this caused thousands of frogs to rain down into the yard with us. I don’t mind frogs, but these were too little to eat, and I knew they’d become breakfast for too many spiders already roaming around. I called the dog to eat them up, because I couldn’t bear another boom in the spider population. She was gobbling them up when we saw Suspender Sam slide down the tree. We ran inside, where I slammed the screen door and bolted the wood tight. Too late, spiders the size of my hands filled the corners of the house. They had shed their skins like snakes. Fire ants feasted on the discarded skins. I built a fire in the fireplace and gathered up moving newspapers to stoke it for their burning. When I had burnt all the spiders and ants, I looked out the window to see Suspender Sam tip his hat to me as he strolled away from our drive. I said to The Mister, “One nice thing about the sun, the Devil won’t bother us when it’s up.”
Who needs to read or watch scary stuff, when you’ve already got crap like that in your head?!?