I’ve always had really vivid dreams. I still remember, in great detail, a series of epic dreams I had about adventures in a cavernous underworld with a handsome stranger, and I was under age five when I had those. They were just as good as, if not better than “The Iliad,” and I didn’t even know what “The Iliad” was at that age.
This has, in turn, carried over to my live in Custer State Park. I have dreams in college, but many of them are vague and easily forgotten. Here, it’s a whole different story. Maybe it’s the mountains, or maybe it’s the springs that poke through my mattress and into my back, but I’ve had some insane dreams.
And these aren’t small, silly dreams about dancing buffalo or showing up to class naked. These dreams are always heavily laden with details and subplot. Sometimes, if I realize I’m dreaming, I can mess with the dream and manipulate things to do what I want them to, which can be fun. So far, I haven’t been able to do that here, but I’ll keep hoping.
One night I dreamt I was in a mall full of people on the verge of collapse. Hoards of people were inside the mall trying to break windows and get out. Women were using the tips of their high heels to try to puncture the thick glass to no avail. Somehow, I made it outside, only to look back at the giant, multi-story brick building and realize that it wasn’t collapsing, it was going to be blown up. The people inside were frantically trying to get out as I ran around trying to herd them through the hole in the glass I had used, when several people with guns showed up.
At that point, I came to realize that it was a terrorist attack of sorts, so I grabbed a gun and shot several bad guys, but not before one shot me in the right shoulder. This terrified the people in the mall, who all turned and ran back inside the building right as it toppled on top of them. I stood there in disbelief, surrounded by dead bad guys, and knew I had to flee because for some reason, this was all my fault. I did what I could to take care of my wound as I drove down I-29, not knowing where to go.
Then I woke up.
It’s weirdly specific and epic, right? I feel like I should call Michael Bay.
I’ve always talked in my sleep as well, but it’s gone to a whole new level this summer. Almost every night I’ve woken myself up mid-conversation and had no idea who I was supposedly talking to or what I was saying. It’s exhausting.
Like I said, maybe it’s the horrible mattress and maybe it’s something in the air. Either way, I’m going to have a ton of movie scripts and novel ideas by the end of the summer if I keep dreaming like this.
Silver linings – they’re important.