of dreams... and nightmares.

When I was a child, I dreamed a great deal.  I knew somewhere, in the very back of my mind that I was dreaming, but the dreams would play out with me, their hapless victim.  I still can recall several of the most vivid and frightening very clearly.  

For the past, I don't know how many years, I haven't recalled my dreams, save on rare occasions, and even those became ephemeral and fleeting once I was a few hours into my day.  I have counted this as a blessing, knowing enough about human psychology to know that we are never truly dreamless.  We may not recall our dreams...but they are there...

My children and I received yesterday, a brand new kitten.  We adore cats, and haven't had one in a while.  The result was having to make sure I was up every couple of hours to ensure the little fluffball got a trip to her kitty box.  She's just a wee thing and cant' make the jump from the bed to the floor yet.  The net result was, I believe, me spending a great deal more time in REM sleep last night than I do on most other nights.  

...and i dreamed.  

I don't like the dreams where I can't speak, or I can see.   I've had the pursuit dreams, I get them, I can deal with them.  But the not speaking ones, and the ones where I lose sight sporadically are just... WEIRD and remarkable unsettling.  These are the dreams that I remember with great clarity and for extended periods of time.  They stick with me for some reason.  

Now, the inability to speak in dreams, the inability to communicate, can reflect feelings of not being heard in ones waking life.  (How many times have I made that complaint?)   A person may feel ignored or not valued for their thoughts.  but the dream I had last night... it was more than not being able to speak.  It was frightening and the inability to speak or cry out  made the fear all the more intense and palpable.  

In my room there are sliding glass doors which open onto our back yard.  The children and the pups like to romp about in the grass when the weather is warm and sunny, I like to sit out there and watch the birds that flit and fly about the yards that abut ours.   Every night, before it gets dark out, I check that door and make sure that it is well fastened and locked tight.  I did so last night, just like every night, then again once more right before bed.  Lately, Armani, my "rent-a-pup" has been sleeping on the foot of the bed.  The slightest sounds will waken her and she'll bark if there's anyone about.  But she wasn't with me last night, the new kitten was.  My brain knew this, and took advantage.

I rose having heard a noise.  It should not have been light out, yet there was light streaming into the back yard, and thus, through the chinks round the edges of the curtain covering the sliding glass door that led out.  It was the billowing of the curtains that made my heart race and my breath catch deep in my chest.  The curtains only billowed when the door was open.  

It was wide open.  Shocked...I stood there, one hand on the door handle, the other braced against the door jam, staring out into my yard.  Why was the door open?  I had locked it.  I always lock it.   The man striding across my yard seemed not to notice me for a moment.  Taller than me, he was broad and heavily muscled, to use the word 'thug' would be most appropriate.  He moved with purpose from the back of the yard, past the bird of paradise tree towards where the hot water heater is housed.  But then, he pauses and looks my way, looks directly at me... and starts forward.  Still I am standing there, the cool air of night blowing against my face.  I want to scream out to the children.  I want to cry out for help.  I want to slam the door shut and lock it... keeping him at bay.  But I can do nothing.  I am frozen, the words caught in my throat.  Halfway towards me his expression changes, and becomes almost feral, and I finally act.  The door slides shut and the lock clicks home.  I don't know if he continues in his approach... I have already turned and moved, running out of the room, the door slamming shut behind me, the thought clear in my head that I must ensure the children are safe. 

I woke up then, a kitten mewing at me piteously that she needed to go use her box, again.  I scooped up the cute little thing and deposited her in her box, then made sure that damn door was closed up tight.  It was, the dogs were sleeping soundly and there seemed to be no signs of any hulking thugs rampaging about my back yard.  Once the little fuzzball was done with her business, we got back to the business of trying to have a good nights rest.  I'd like to report that I didn't dream the rest of the night, but I'd be fibbing.  I did.  At least it was nothing so striking that I am able to clearly recall them now.  

So maybe my brain is trying to help me figure out some major subconscious boggle in the deep, dead of night.   Or maybe, it was just a really sucky-ass bad dream that creeped me out more than it should.  Either way, whoever is doling out the dreaming needs to skip me over the next night or two.  I need some sleep!