20 November 2011

my subconscious is quite the fiction writer

I woke up to the remnants of a dream about picture day at school.

Except: the school was providing the outfits, my Realtor was the photographer, and we weren't being photographed but videoed singing the National Anthem. With back-up singers. And a full band.

I'm still unclear on how this was going to work, but we each were given a word of "The Star Spangled Banner," and we sang the song up to that point {patriotism only goes so far, you know}.

My word was at the end—"...o'er the land of the free / and the home.."—so I had plenty of time to choose an outfit.

How much stock do you put in dreams?

Does it mean anything that I didn't want to wear most of the school's options because they were scandalously short and provocatively cut? I remember shouting at one point, "But none of us are Katy Perry!"

Does it mean anything that I kept quietly saying, "I wish you had more outfits like Audrey Hepburn wore in Roman Holiday"?

Like this outfit. Why couldn't I have been given this option to wear while singing the National Anthem? Also, holding Atticus Finch's hand while singing would make me as American as apple pie.

This outfit might've been too much. Besides, it's gauche to sing the National Anthem—about fighting the British—in an outfit that looks like what Queen Elizabeth wore to her coronation.

My dreams tend to be so detailed yet zany that I don't think much of them—when I can even remember them. Ask me sometime about my VERY SPECIFIC dream of driving over cadavers {yes, cadavers} in a pick-up truck that was driven from the back seat, not the front seat. Also, my vision was blurry in that one, as it usually is in my dreams. {You don't need a degree in psychology to interpret that last part: I'm scared of going blind.}

Given the few times a year I do remember my dreams, I'm thankful that I can't remember them more often. The intricacies of the stories make me tired, and you should not wake up tired.

My subconscious clearly works overtime at night and becomes quite the fiction writer.

1 comment:

  1. I love dreams. I love the detail and epic nature of the dreams that I have; even when it means the nightmares are just as vivid.

    Do I wake up an inordinate amount of time? Perhaps... my sleep is broken into very short bursts, but I love recanting the stories with Beth and you.

    Also you should add a tag to this post for dreams like dreamland or something.



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