Dreams, Again

I've been remembering an unusual amount of dreams lately. I have no idea why or how. From everything I've heard about dreams, you forget ninety percent of them within ten minutes of waking up or something like that (this is a blog, not a research paper).

And a majority of those dreams are incredibly violent and graphic. And I'm not sure whether I should be concerned or not.

The first memorable dream I'm putting into this group actually happened during this summer. I remember a large chunk of what happened, roughly six months later. I was kidnapped and held hostage by this couple who wanted to hold me hostage for some random reason. It was in a very, very nice mansion with many, many rooms and the couple was clearly wealthy. I somehow managed to escape, met up with a friend, possibly at random, tried to return home, but the best laid plans of mice and men. I was captured again. I'm pretty sure my friend was killed for trying to help me get home.

At some point, my mom managed to figure out where I was and came to my rescue. She got into a physical altercation with the couple holding me hostage and totally won. We left the house, got into my mom's car, and started to drive down the driveway. Unfortunately, the couple had other ideas (they REALLY wanted to keep me locked up) and detonated a landmine or something outside the passenger side of the car. It was a massive explosion.

I died.

And the dream continued. My mom survived and either went back up to the house to get revenge or she made a break for it to prepare for a bigger fight.

The second dream worth mentioning happened maybe a week and a half or so ago. I don't remember a ton from this one, but the main thing I remember happening was being shot in the chest, at I think point-blank range, and having my back basically blown off. There was a massive exit wound between my shoulder blades. It was gruesome to say the least.

And again, I died. And the dream continued after I died.

The next dream happened a few days after the second. I'm pretty sure I didn't die this time around, which is progress, but I was still pretty banged up. This dream involved cars. And trees. The only pairing that goes better together than cars and trees is peanut butter and jelly.  I think I was trying to escape from somebody or a group of somebodies and there may have been a passenger in my car as well. At whatever point, I ended up being run off the road and head first into tree. Airbags deployed. It's also possible that after the car accident, I might have been taken captive?

Super specific details are a little fuzzy, but I'm impressed I remember even that much.

The most recent dream was from maybe two nights ago. Surprise, surprise, I was being held hostage. I wasn't the only hostage this time around though and the three of us planned a daring escape. Which ended poorly - we were found out. We were being chased through yet another mansion (I clearly have a thing for dreaming about mansions) while being shot at. The three of us ended up becoming separated and our captors managed to gain some high ground in the form of the second floor. Being shot at from above isn't an enjoyable thing, especially with few good hiding places. Our captors tried to weed us out, which came pretty close to working. Actually, it did work. We were trying to regroup and we ran into two of our captors while the third began shooting at us from above.

And that's all I remember before I woke up.

It feels like these dreams are fairly interconnected, which is a weird concept. But if they are, how do I explain the one where I die from a gun shot fits into the grand scheme of things? And why do I keep dying? And when I'm not dying, why am I getting hurt? Should I be concerned? Another interesting thing I've notice is that these dreams all feel very . . . cinematic or theatrical in the way they are presented. Like, they'd be scenes straight out of a movie or a TV show.

I was telling my friend about these dreams and he said I needed a Xanax or something to calm me down because it sounded to him like I was pretty stressed out. I told him that my mind was literally killing me because of how stressed I apparently am. Which I thought was the cleverest thing ever. I still do. Don't judge me.

But those are just dreams and I honestly don't hold much to the idea of dream interpretation and are probably just a result of my overactive imagination releasing some pent up creativity . . . in a very violent way to force me to create things again.

Until next time, g'night and sleep tight.