Dreams. Weird little buggers, aren’t they?
When I was a lot younger, I used to believe the tall tale that if somebody makes an appearance in your dream, that person is thinking about you in real life. Well, I’m sorry, but when I was 16 I had a very vivid dream that Eminem groped me in a cinema. I’m not buying it. Adulthood is realising all your convuluted fantasies aren’t going to materialise, funnily enough. Harsh.
(Before you jump to any conclusions, I have never once fantasised about Eminem groping me in a cinema. That was just my probably stress-addled brain taking me for a cruel, cruel ride.)
I will admit, though, that once someone appears in your dream there’s an inevitable feeling of uneasiness the next time you see them when you’re out and about. It’s like, we definitely interacted and I remember you saying words to me. I said some words back. I may have killed you, we could’ve even had sex, but either way *something* happened and the fact that it actually didn’t is irrelevant.
The other week, I had a dream about…someone in my past, and I woke up with this really unsettling ‘why were YOU there? I’m not the person I was when I knew you!’ feeling. My dad cropped up in another dream recently, and I vividly remember dream-me telling him he shouldn’t be there.
About a year after my uncle died, I had a dream that I walked past him in a travel agents and all we did was briefly nod and say hi. No more chat than that. To me, it felt an awful lot like making peace with his passing.
The fact that in that dream I was on the way to the travel agents with Louis Tomlinson of One Direction (shortly after he’d impregnated me) to book us a friendship holiday to Mexico to prove that he was cool with us still being friends for the baby is, again, irrelevant.
Anyway. Night guys! Wishing you pleasant, fruitful, non-confrontational dreams.