I’ve had a lot of nightmares through my lifetime.  Many more than I care to remember.  I wish I could be like some of the people I know who claim to never remember their dreams. When I was a little kid, I used to draw pictures of my dreams, good or bad.  I hung them on my wall.  I thought if I drew them and then looked at them enough, they couldn’t scare me anymore.  It never worked, but I continued to draw them.  Just drawing the pictures seemed to be a comfort in and of itself.

As I got older, I started writing about my dreams.  Sometimes I would remember a lot, but most of the time I would just remember things like I was riding the 28 down 19th Avenue in San Francisco sitting behind two little old ladies gossiping about their friends.

I had a nightmare recently where I was trying to get ready to go out with a bunch of people.  As everyone finished getting ready, they would yell “Hurry up!” and run out to the limo we were apparently using as transportation for our night out.  Every time someone would yell out, I would start panicking because I was no where near ready.  My husband finally came out and said he was heading out to the limo.  I asked him to wait for me, but for some reason he refused.  I really started rushing then trying to get ready.  All I had left was to put my shoes on, but every time I put on a pair of shoes, it was like I was putting on a pair of Shaq’s shoes, they were way too big.  They would start out looking like they would fit me, but the minute I slid my foot in, BOOM! they were too big.  I was running around frantically trying to find a frickin’ pair of shoes that fit.  Then to top it all off, the shoes started to multiply like the cup in Bellatrix Lestrange’s vault in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.  I was crying and drowning in shoes and no one seemed to notice.  They were all too happy out in the limo.  I woke up screaming, crying, and in the middle of a panic attack.  It was bad.  Now when I look back at it, I can’t believe I got so worked up over a dream about shoes, but in the moment it was horrible.  I couldn’t stop crying or catch my breath.  How is it that dreams can affect us so?  It’s not like it’s physically happening, but I woke up feeling worn out.  The brain is an amazing and mysterious thing.   I constantly wonder about what really goes on up there.  What other powers does my brain possess that I know nothing about?  They say we only use 10% of our brain or something like that.  What else is going on up there?  It’s my brain, yet I know so little about it.  I hope to live long enough for the mad scientists out there to figure out 100% of the brain.  Ok, maybe at least 50%.  How about 25%?  It would be nice to know more, but for now, I will have to just imagine what my brain can do and maybe come up with stories about it.

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