Any Dreams You’d Like to Sell

I’ve been on a streak where I’ve been not only having really vivid dreams, but also remembering them. Most of the time, we’ll exchange our morning pleasantries, telling each other about whatever dreams we can remember and commiserating about restless sleeps and how often each of us got up in the middle of the night to pee.

Because we’re at that age where bathroom things are a normal, regular topic of conversation, apparently.

Whatever. Back to the dreams.

For the most part, my dreams are weird. Last night, my dreams involved home repairs and debates about water salinity. Sometimes, I wake up knowing I’d dreamt, but not remembering the details, only how the dream “felt”. I know I had odd dreams, and maybe something will trigger a memory of their details later in the day.

Unfortunately, I have my fair share of nightmares. It’s funny how my idea of what’s a nightmare has changed as over gotten older, evolving from fantasy and horror to situations solidly rooted in reality. Twenty years ago, one of my most vivid nightmares involved stealing and crashing Santa’s sleigh on interstate 95 North, right near the massive Christmas light display that the gold company sets up.

Two days ago, my dreams were filled with anxiety and doubt, that more charges were being brought against him. In the dream, the website devoted to his case had a ticker, just like the one I had on my very first website, counting visitors. Unlike that first Geocities page (a combination of personal site and a Wishbone fan-site, for the record) that may have boasted 37 hits in its lifetime, the counter on his case page indicated how many charges were being filed, and I watched in real-time as it just ticked higher.

And higher.

And still higher.

I woke up when the number reached 189.

Now, I don’t expect that to be the number. Currently, there’s only the single charge against him, and he hasn’t heard anything that would indicate that’s changing. But, that’s still a fucking scary thought.