As I have mentioned here previously, I dream in Technicolor. I’m talking full on Dorothy-in-Oz-style Technicolor – farmhands and backdrops from Kansas need not apply.
To put my REM-time hobby into perspective, let me explain a few things to you: most people dream in black and white, most of those people rarely remember their dreams, and Hubby claims not to dream (much) at all. In contrast, I have novella-esque dreams with some degree of continuity. I have people, scenarios, and even locations that recur from time to time in my dreams. And it all happens in beautiful high def.
But my dreams do have a few weird qualities. For example, I can’t read in my dreams. This is as close as I assume that dyslexic people feel because in my dreams words and numbers are completely jumbled up. Part of me knows what they say but yet I know I can’t fully understand what is in front of my dream self.
For those of you who know me in real life this next one may seem odd – but I’m skinny in my dreams. Or more to the point, I’m not fat. I have decided to blame this extremely hot dream version of my body as the reason I am unable to lose weight in my extremely unhot reality body. (I like having external people or things to blame for my failures – otherwise I might have to take responsibility myself. *shudder*)
Sometimes my dreams are freakishly vivid and real. I’m not talking about snakes on the windows that jolt me awake screaming in terror (although those dreams suck mightily). These are the dreams where you wake up, go through your morning routine including showering and dressing and are half way out the door when you wake up to realize that the last 20 minutes never really happened. (Those dreams are highly annoying because they also mean that I’m usually running late!)
So is my dream-life weird? Am I the only person out there whose dreams are only slightly less tangible than reality? Or is this nether world lurking in my subconscious the real reason I’m only slightly more normal than Mork?