Do you dream in color?
I do. Big ol' technicolor dreams. Or should I say True Color because this is a new century and all? Hmm. Quandary.Anyway, they are very real feeling, and they very, very, very rarely have anything to do with my life in them. Every night when I set myself down to sleep, or I guess more accurately every morning before I wake, my mind tells me little stories. Most of the time they are even coherent stories, at least the main part, which is not usual for dreams. At least I think it's unusual; since coherent dreams are standard for me odd dreams I take on hearsay.
For example, this morning's dream. It starts out that I'm working on a farm by the river, and I meet this woman who is being chased by guys in dark glasses and pinstripe suits. We travel down the river, entering a city where we go through a slightly run-down yet artsy part of town before getting to the downtown core. Here things are grey and full of people, but since we are being chased the crowds are as much a hindrance as a help, since we can't see if anyone is close. In my dream we end up in a mall that is more like a covered over street mall with vendors selling out of carts then a normal suburban mall. We leave the mall, and I use my Kia key to unlock the door of a Kia in the parking lot, since sometimes keys from the same car company can open more doors then they should. The car we steal is low on gas, but it gets us back to the river, which we then float down until we reach the sea, where the woman I was with turns into a mermaid. The people who were chasing us turn out to be mages who were testing me, since in my dream world one's mage power is unlocked by the journey to the sea with a mermaid. After the journey the mage is linked with the mermaid and can always hear their song in the back of their mind. (aww....) One of the people who was chasing me turns out to be an old friend in disguise, and the dream ended about the time he threw an arm over my shoulder, pleased that I got to join him as a mage.
Now, I think I have read too many books, watched too many movies, and plotted too many stories, because I don't think many people have brains that subconsciously give them actually plotted stories. It's like, my mind does the normal business of selecting random images, but that I have some odd meta-filter that forces things into a story form. It's odd.
But it's part of why I like sleeping so darn much. My mind tells me interesting stories every almost every night. What's not to like?
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