My husband swears that he has never remembered a dream. Are any of you like that? I can’t imagine that being the case. I tend to go through periods where I dream insanely, and then periods where I can’t remember anything at all. Last night’s dream I don’t remember specifically, but it was strange. I’ve never really had recurrent dreams like some people. But man, I have had some bizarre things running through my head. I’ve always thought my imagination was way too vivid for my own good.
I was very pleased to find out from the link above that many other people have had this dream: I was back in college and apparently forgot to go to class all semester, but then I had to take the final exam. That really freaked me out. I feel like this is kind of recurrent for me, mostly that I can’t figure out why I haven’t gone to class, since I was always a pretty good and responsible student. It’s never the same class or the same images, but the feeling is one I think keeps returning in a dream.
Back in the Hanson days I had a few dreams involving them, and that was always a treat. Around the same time, I was totally stuck on this guy in my youth group. He was totally the “it” guy. (I was watching our youth choir this Sunday and trying to figure out who the “it” guy is in our church youth group. Isn’t there always one?) I remember having a very vivid dream where we went out for coffee and he was all romantic and sweet and when I woke up I had that moment where I thought it was real. When I remembered it was a dream, I think I may have cried.
My sister would never let me forget it if I didn’t share my most insane dream story, however. She won’t let me forget it anyway, because she thinks it’s the funniest story in the world. Except for the time I told her to lock the doors to the car because there were signs up that said “Surveying.” And I thought someone was going to stop us and give us a survey. Stop laughing!
The summer after my freshman year in college I was a summer missionary. I worked at a youth mission camp as a counselor/worship leader/slave with three other girls. It was the best summer ever, but we slept at most from midnight to five during camp weeks. It was grueling! So at some point in this summer, I was at home and took a nap on the couch. And I had this dream.
I dreamt I was in a very old house and I was babysitting. For a whole slue of children. And all of the children looked like little round heads with triangle bodies, like bad drawings of a swaddled baby. (Recalling this dream, I always called them the “pea-sized children.”) While I was trying to baby-sit, I kept getting e-mails from the mother of these children, who was upstairs and was a known crazy lady. I think she was a painter and was supposed to be working. Well, I got to the point where she started to worry me, but I didn’t know what to do with the masses of children. So I lined them all up on the street, laying down. Then I ran upstairs, worried about the mother. And there she had killed herself, next to a painting of the Virgin Mary.
That’s when I woke up. And I was really, really scared. According to my sister, Ashley, I rushed into the room where she was and started asking, “Where’s Mom? Where’s Mom?” She said my eyes were as big as saucers. And I started going on about the pea-sized children.
Mom was at work, she told me. So I went and laid back down. And have never lived it down.