As I think I’ve said before, I don’t very often remember my dreams when I awake. My Beloved, however, remembers all of his in minute detail and they all seem to be soaring epic tales of only-God-knows-what. I say this because I’m a bad wife and because, *sometimes, when he starts to tell me a dream he had — *sometimes — I cover my ears and say, “OH LORD!! IT BURRRNS!!” and other such supportive stuff to encourage him to please continue which he always does. He just talks louder; doesn’t seem to get the hint. He’s a very vexing person, you know.
But back to me. So, yeah, I don’t remember my dreams often. When I do, it’s usually because it’s one of my recurring theme dreams. And, frankly, there is only one recurring theme — which I will tell you but not before I warn you that this is likely to be the most embarrassing admission in the history of this blog. Beet-red embarrassing for me and, very possibly, the same for you. You may be irreparably embarrassed for me. You may think less of me forever. (How is that possible, Trace, you say? Oh, it be possible. It be. Brace yourselves.)
So … I will tell you the recurring theme by sharing how my dream discussions with MB always go down:
ME: So I had a dream last night.
HE (sighing): Okay. Who wanted you?
ME: (Uhm, insert name of famous person here.)
Yep. That’s my recurring theme dream. Sally from When Harry Met Sally varied her outfits in her recurring dream; I vary the celebrity who breathlessly declares he wants me. And that is the entire dream. That is the entire discussion of the dream. Nothing really happens in the dream except this: a random celebrity ardently declares his love and desire for me.
For instance, here’s a recent one:
ME: So I had a dream last night.
HE: (sighing): Okay. Who wanted you?
ME: Simon Cowell.
Simon Cowell? Simon Cowell?? He of the freakishly small hands?? Lord. I have issues. Deep, unfathomable issues. I am in a full-body cringe right now. You may feel similarly. And I do apologize.
Oh, and the randomness of it all cannot be overstated. These are not men I spend time mooning over, no matter how attractive they may be. They are not men I just saw in a movie or TV show that day who might be hovering in my subconscious. They just ….. appear. Out of nowhere. It’s like there’s some cosmic celebrity lineup for Tracey’s Recurring Theme Dream and every male celebrity is eventually gonna have to make an appearance, like it or not. They have to show up and hit their marks and make me believe it, dammit!
And MB always takes it in stride. He only berates me when he thinks the celebrity is sub-par. THAT will be his issue. Usually, he just sighs and laughs because he’s good-natured and secure and, amazingly, still loves me in spite of all of this. Bless you, man!
But this morning — this morning — was slightly different. I remembered two dreams. The discussion went like this:
ME: I had two dreams.
HE: Really?
ME: Uh-huh. In the first dream, I killed someone.
HE: Really? How?
ME: I stabbed him. I feel bad.
HE: Hm.
ME: And then the second dream …
HE: Yeah — who wanted you?
ME: Sawyer from Lost.
HE: Good one.
ME: Yeah. (pause) But I don’t deserve to have Sawyer want me — I killed someone!
I just …. don’t know what to say.
* all the time
I think the question that needs to be asked is: did the person deserve to die?*
If so, then you’re off the hook. Feel free to accept Sawyer’s (yowzah!) declaration.
*only in dreams, people!
oh, and our community theater is doing your favorite hated musical for the ’08-’09 season. immediately I thought of you.
What can I tell you? It’s a hard knock life, but the sun’ll come up tomorrow.
Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever killed someone in my dreams but I have been killed. In Undergrad, a good friend of mine dreamed that I was shot and killed in a robbery at a McDonald’s (how depressing…I mean a McDonalds for goodness sake!). She literally came down and camped outside my dorm door till I awoke the next morning! A few years ago (okay, so more than a few, more like 10) I dreamed that I was shot in the head and “died” in my dream. I remember feeling the blood draining from my body and thinking “so this is what it feels like to die” just before I woke up. Really freaky! Now my dreams consist of me wandering around half clothed and not being too concerned about it till just before I get to class/party/grocery store….weird….
I actually get your Sawyer reference now! My best friend stayed with us for a few days and watched most of the 3rd season of “Lost” on our computer and I got to see it as well. Very confusing I must say 🙂
sam — I love that you have dreams where you’re wandering around half-clothed, all yo dee doh, no biggie, til you have to go to class. Hahahaha.
And Sawyer — Yes, the tortured snarky dreamboat. Love him. This season’s Lost finale blew me away. Truly. It can be a vexing show, but hang in there with it!