unfinished dreams

I dream… a lot. On a good night, I have the most bizarre, pseudo-drug-trippy dreams. On a bad night, which generally outnumber the good, I have pretty awful nightmares-slash-nocturnal-revisitations-of-memories. So yeah. Sleep is… fun. There’s a reason why I rarely sleep more than four hours, if that.

Not only do I dream a lot, I have a lot of recurring dreams. Which are a topic for another time, because they’re insane. And I dream pretty vividly. Sometimes I lucid-dream, too, which is a whole other ball of interesting. That I actually try to cultivate, as it’s a useful skill to turn the nightmares into something palatable. I also have an often too-good habit of remembering my dreams. Which leads to the title of this post… unfinished dreams.

I don’t know why, but it bothers the hell out of me when I wake up in the middle of a dream storyline. Sometimes I can fall back into it, but most times, once it’s over it’s over. Maybe it’s the writer in me, but leaving those threads dangling drives me batshit. I HATE IT. I had one like that last night, and even though the dream in no way related to anything important in my actual life, I was left grumpy and discombobulated over it, knowing I’m never going to have a satisfying conclusion. Totally stupid, I know, but there I am.