Recently, in one of my classes we were reading excerpts from dream prose. All this talk of dreams keeps bringing me back to the bizarre dreams I've been having about my dad and my family back home.
Especially the dream where I had skulls in my mouth. There is something particullarly disturbing about that one. Perhaps it is because I remember it so vividly, when often my dreams escape me as quickly as random thoughts daydreamed at the most boring parts of the day.
There has to be some reason that I keep having the dreams about home. Do I subconciously miss my old life while my aware exterior enjoys the freedom and independance of the life I have created here and now?
And how 'bout that dream I had this morning during the precious two hours of sleep I got due to my anxiety causing insomnia.
I was at my Dad's house in CT, hanging out with him, when someone broke into the back porch of the house and stole a pink bike. I never had a pink bike, but somehow it was mine. And I must of had some serious attachement to it (or just really big balls), becauseI went after it. Once I had located the white van it was in and recorded the license plate number, I had every intention of calling the police, but apparently I didnt know how. It was at this point in the dream when my newly founded balls (or courage) begins to disapear and the dream becomes fuzzy.
At least this time there were no skulls in my mouth, that dream still kinda freaks me out!