For as long as I can remember, I’ve had entertaining dreams. Full color, action packed, thought-provoking, movie-like dreams. In fact, if there were academy awards for dreams, I would have a bed full of the little gold guys!
Often, I wake up exhausted from all of the physical feats and ass-kicking I’ve done for 6-7 hours in my dreams. Sometimes, I wake with my heart pounding, terrified by a menacing figure or catastrophic event. The worst is when I am jolted awake by the phone or the incessant need to pee – right before the climatic (sometimes literally) ending – and then when I finally drift off again, the dream is elusive and refuses to pick up where it left off – and I’m left frustrated and unfulfilled (again, sometimes literally).
My dreams are so vivid when I wake up that I can’t imagine forgetting them. I mean, did you forget the plot of Star Wars after seeing it? I can still quote most of that movie and see my favorite scenes in my head! But, inevitably, a few minutes or hours after waking from my dream, the details would become blurry and sometimes I would forget everything.
I’ve often thought that my dreams would make a great book – or at least an anthology of stories – but that forgetting nonsense was getting in the way of me penning my great American novel. So, I decided to keep a notebook and pen by my bed so that I could jot down key points immediately upon waking, while the plot and action points were still fresh in my mind. I’d wake up to pee and spend a few seconds scrawling bullet points in the notebook before falling asleep again – and in the morning, I’d find profound statements waiting to spark my creative genius. Things like, “The flowerbox was a horse,” “Dented cars everywhere,” and “Purple pants. PURPLE PANTS!”
Before long, I realized that either my dreams were not as exciting as they seemed to be while I was in REM sleep – or I wasn’t coherent enough in my post-sleep haze to accurately record the salient details. Either way, I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to get rich from writing about my dreams. Still – every so often, I have a dream so outrageous, so exciting, so heartbreaking, or so deep that I still think, “This is a great story – I need to write about this!”
That was the case a few weeks ago – as soon as I woke up, I grabbed my phone and typed in the highlights of the dream – convinced that they would help me remember the whole story later on. And then I promptly forgot all about it – until I was adding a note to my phone today and came across them:
Mask, wig, stockings, puts on silky robe
Going to Florida for Christmas
Packing my stuff – needing a duffel
Called a cab
The details of this particular dream are sketchy, but here is what I do remember:
I walked into the bathroom to find Doc just getting out of the shower – he was wearing a woman’s wig and had a mud mask on his face. As we talked, he slipped on a silky robe and put on women’s stockings. I remember being shocked that he was a cross-dresser, as I had never seen any sign of it during our marriage (Disclaimer: Remember this is a dream. As far as I know, Doc is not and has never been a cross-dresser).
I don’t remember our exact conversation – but I was upset and felt betrayed. Doc didn’t want to be with me anymore (I think we all know where that came from). However, he kept telling me I didn’t need to worry, because he knew for a fact that Huge Hefner was interested in me. He did not say HUGH Hefner – he said “HUGE Hefner.” I remember thinking (in the dream) that Huge must be a porn star or a giant – I didn’t know whether to be flattered or offended.
The rest is fuzzy – apparently one of us was going to Florida for Christmas and, if I remember correctly, he was packing up my stuff and needed an extra duffel bag to get everything to fit. A cab was called – for him? For me? I guess we’ll never know.
What kind of dreams do you have? Have you ever woken up exhausted because of your dreams? Do you think Huge was a giant or a porn star (or something else entirely?)