Amalgams in My Dreams

It was surreal to see a nine year old wielding an automatic weapon, smiling the way movie villains smile when it's their turn to shine in the story. Surreal. Terrifying. And not like any dream / nightmare I'd had to date. It's not often that I dream of violence or guns. In fact, I recall with odd clarity the last time some one held a firearm withing the confines of my dreamscape. She was one of the good guys. But this moment... it was not right. And yet, I wasn't afraid. Unlike the entire dream leading up to this moment, I was disengaged and watching it like a movie. My mind editing the scene together, cutting back and forth through the chaos of an L.A. traffic tunnel being taken hostage by mercenaries. Led by a nine-year old boy with an itchy trigger finger.

Not one to analyze dreams beyond the usual "maybe it's something I ate," I didn't think much of it, except that it was so vivid and such an odd climax to a random series of events.

When I was little, I was convinced that dreams were not dreams, but rather a place where we go when we sleep. The dream world. Yes, I was voracious reader in my youth and the tales of "Alice in Wonderland" and "The Chronicles of Narnia" sat upon my bedside table regularly. It made perfect sense at seven years old that we existed in two places: here, the real world. And a subconscious realm of interconnected dreams.

So it was odd last evening to find myself in a rapidly changing world where reality was close enough to this one that I didn't question when day turned to night in an instant. Friends appeared and disappeared randomly -- or sometimes switched places on me just in time for a car chase through, where else... the tunnel which would soon be taken over by this kid and his crew.

Perhaps it was too much "Dollhouse" -- the Joss Whedon show that I'm sad to see leave the air. A recent episode was quite dreamlike and I can see the parallels if I pay attention. Or perhaps it was just the entertainment my brain concocted last night to make sure I got enough rest. Either way, I'm curious to find out what happened to that tunnel.

Do you take stock in your dreams? What's the most memorable one you've ever had? These were not my most memorable. And not the most real. But they were fascinating in the way the events in the dreams blended so smoothly that it felt like one dream, instead of the sequence that it truly was.

off to write. Hopefully I can keep some bit of creatively flowing and produce some work by the end of the year. A friend just instructed me to write a comedy. We'll see how that goes. My stories are leaning to not-comedy, but you never know.