Get Out of My Head!

I've always been a dreamer.

Well, not really. I'm actually a strict realist.

But I've always had, and remembered in detail, vivid dreams.

When I was young, I had four main dreams that cycled through the years.

The first dream was yellow. That's it. No plot, no characters, no setting. Only yellow. But it was an amazing yellow. Not fluorescent. Not creamy. More like a daffodil yellow; a true yellow. It was peaceful and slightly spiritual. Perhaps it was just the reminder of story-book angel images. Or perhaps it was God's way of bringing calm into the life of a very behaviorally-challenged child. Whatever the source, the dreams were a special gift to me. And the color yellow still makes me smile.

The second dream was flight. This one varied a bit, but always resulted in my flying high above the earth. It was freedom and exhilaration and adventure that was novel to me- a child haunted by claustrophobia, acrophobia, agoraphobia, and hydrophobia. *

The third recurring dream I had was a bit more detailed. It may have come from reading the complete and unabridged Gulliver's Travels at a very young age. Or possibly hearing the raindrops night after night on our gabled-ceilings was the reason. But I began dreaming that many little men would sneak into my bedroom, turn me into a hot-dog and squirt ketchup and mustard all over me. Although I would laugh when recounting the dream in the morning (a vital part of the dream process), I was thoroughly frightened at night.

The last dream I had as a child was my fear-based dream. This one was so scary to me, that I would actually venture into the dungeon (the slightly damp, cold and dark basement which housed my parents' bedroom) for instant comfort. It was one of those dreams where perception was distorted. Far was near and near was far. Up was down and short was tall. Try as I may, I could never control any aspect of that dream and it terrified me.

I dreamed that Easter eggs were falling from the sky toward my upturned face. I don't remember the colors or designs, but they were Easter eggs in my mind. They would grow, morph and expand, but just before they would hit me, they would disappear. I realize now it was the distortion that caused such fear and uncertainty.

I have not had any of those dreams in nearly twenty years, but I still have amazing dreams.

And lately, you people have been in my head.

First, it was BusyDad. He showed up in the middle of a perfectly normal dream to see if I would take his 5 year old, Fury. He just couldn't handle him any longer. He was going to pay me $5000. And then the dream changed before I could answer him.

Dude, I totally would have done it for 2K.

And then OhMommy.

Ms. OhMommy.

Ms.I-wear-stilettos-at-all-times-my-children-are-gorgeous-and-well-behaved-and-my-house-is-so-clean-you-can-lick-the-floors OhMommy showed up at my my-house-is-so-messy-you-can-lose-a-child-in-the-laundry-mountains house to ask Ms. I'm-glad-if-I-get-my-teeth-brushed-before-4pm Jenni how to make pierogi. I told her to go ask her Mamusia and I was neither classy nor fabulous about it. **

Perhaps I should stop catching up on my reading at 1am, huh?

*None of which I currently suffer from. Having been replaced by Chiraptophobia and Menophobia.

** I realized as I was reading through this again, that I sound super catty and nasty. I adore OhMommy and her supposed perfectness. And I'm sure there are days when she has mountains of laundry too. Except not really.