Once, when my little cousin A was only 3-years old, I asked her what she dreamt about. She told me that she dreamt of lambs. How sweet! And how I wish that I had dreams a lovely as that.
My dreams often revolve around the past. I dream that I am back in university with an assignment due that I didn’t know about, or with an exam for a class I didn’t even know I was taking. I also dream that I am back in the time before I got together with quanta, alone and sad that no one loves me. (It is always wonderful to wake up and find him sound asleep beside me.) Last night I dreamt I was back at the vacation trailer park where I spent many summers as a young girl. I wish I knew why I dreamt so often of the past.
When not dreaming of the past, though, I generally have nightmares. People are hunted and die, buildings collapse, and all manner of bad things happen. None are particularly bloody, but they are generally very disturbing. It is so odd, since I’m not really exposed to those sort of things in my everyday life… well, I do like watching the occasional crime show, like Cold Case Files and American Justice.
I sometimes wish I could have the pleasant dreams that other people mention–dreams of faeries, the divine, what-have-you. Of course, A is now almost 20-years old and probably doesn’t dream of lambs anymore either.