I hate dreaming sometimes. You're doing things in your dreams that couldn't possibly be or become true and you wake up to find that it was all a figment of your imagination. The symbolism in dreams also makes no sense. I'm climbing down an icy mountain but I'm talking on a cell phone and then I realize that the mountain is way too hard to traverse with only one hand so I climb back up and decide to take a much easier route around the mountain in a car. What the hell is that about?! How is that supposed to help me figure out what to do in life? It's so friggin' strange. There's more to that dream but it's all equally nonsensical or disappointing. I wake up today to find that none of it is true and I can't do anything about it. The crazy thing is that I think I willed myself to dream it in the first place and just like everything else my brain does to mess with me, it happily granted my goddamned wish. I would like nothing better then to explore this facet of my mental self-flagellation but it appears that I can't think of anything else to say. Thanks brain.
What is it about dreams that can make someone who is normally happy, sad? Or turn what could have been a perfectly good day into a day of wasting time dwelling on stuff that never happened? I would call it a nightmare except Freddy Krueger wasn't chasing me around. Nothing in my dream was horrifying until I woke up. And as normal as some of the imagery and subject matter were, I knew within my dream that it must be a dream. At least I can be thankful for that. It would have been much worse waking up and thinking it was real life.
If there was a way to reproduce this feeling consistently it would be a great punishment for inmates. If jail was a place where you woke up every morning disoriented and emotionally jacked up, it would probably stop crime a lot more then hanging out in a cell learning to be better criminals. They would be too busy feeling like crap to shank the warden. Hell, they might be more apt to shank themselves.
