Lately I've been waking up with clear memories of my vivid dreams. And, unlike before, they're actually pretty decent. Mostly B movies, but with happy endings that don't fill me with dread. Uh, that's a switch.
I don't know what all these dreams mean. Oh, I certainly don't believe that dreams are foreshadowing of anything to come-- that's bollocks-- but I surely do know that our subconscious minds will chew on stuff a lot when we let our guards down. It is more remarkable to me that the dreams are ones that I can recall than that they are generally happy-ending dreams.
I suspect that it's just that I've recently changed my sleeping schedule.
For the most part, I tend to think of dreaming as sleep's in-flight-movie, and nothing more. Sometimes it's good, sometimes it's forgettable, sometimes it's terrible, and sometimes you can't hear the dialogue because the kid behind you keeps singing, over and over, the chorus to "Tiny Dancer," using the wrong lyrics. (Ever awaken from a nightful of earworm? It's a particularly nasty form of nightmare.)
At any rate, even though last night's dream did involve the ever-present 200 lb Trigger Pull and the Hammer Dropping In Slow Motion, Failing To Detonate The Primer (two themes so common in my dreams that I swear my REM is interrupted by my rolling of my eyes at the recurrence, these nights), I still persevered.