It used to be that I rarely had vivid dreams, but for some unknown reason that changed over the past summer. Now I can't help but feel that boring, mundane dreams are such a waste, when dreams have the potential to be wildly fantastic, colorful brain vomit. This feeling may be due in part to my tendency to have remarkably vivid dreams about remarkably dull tasks. I once dreamt so clearly about pouring out some expired milk that I was surprised when I found it still in my fridge the next day.
My nightmares don't tend to be much more interesting: they usually revolve around being late for class or missing an assignment deadline.
Perhaps I am too focused on the minutiae of everyday life, to the detriment of my dream self. Why waste a vivid dream on taking out the garbage, when I could be singlehandedly fighting off a zombie apocalypse; why dream about grocery shopping when I could be some sort of super-magical dragon flying around eating rainbows and crapping out Skittles? Call me crazy, but since I'm a bit of an insomniac, when I finally manage to get to sleep I want to be free of my mental checklist of chores to do the following day. I want to experience the bizarre flights of imagination that can occur when the limitations of reality are forgotten and replaced by the nonsensical logic of dreams; I don't want to imagine myself describing my new travel mug to my mother.
Get with the program, brain. Sheesh.
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