I had a dream last night.
I don’t have them often, mostly only when my sleep is medicated and it knocks me out the same way a boxer gets taken down in a ring.
But I had a dream last night, and it made me thankful that they don’t come often.
Don’t get me wrong. It was a good one. Really really good actually. So good that when I woke up, I could still feel the strange sort of happiness and exhilaration coursing through my brain. So real that I could almost feel my fingers flitting across the cracked glass panel of my screen, sending out the text that I was drafting.
I woke up thinking it was real. There was no doubt there. My eyes opened and I grasped for the reality I had build while I was asleep, desperately trying to reconnect with it post dream scape.
That was when I realised, it was a dream. And while I sat in my bed, trying to put together the puzzle pieces before they lost their connecting edge (is it me, or do we tend to forget our dreams faster than we do to memories?), the blissful feeling faded, and I was left with nothing but an intense longing and an overwhelming feeling of loss.
Why do people call it good dreams when the better they are when you’re asleep, the greater the loss when you’re awake? I get nightmares, the ones that haunt you, makes your worst fear reality for the mere hours you’re asleep. But good dreams…how are they really good when they are nothing but a mirage you conjure for yourself when you’re asleep?
I guess I see the appeal. My dream brain managed to profile you so flawlessly, every word you said. Every sigh, every gasp and every expression crafted to striking perfection. Something I would never have been able to do if I were awake. It was as if it had taken reference to the many hours of memories I had of you and created something I want to have but never will.
Now all I’m left with is a pining reawakened by something I thought I’d buried. A seed sown so deep, devoid of sunlight, suddenly sprouting from the surface. A young sapling I’ll now have to kill.
What good are dreams if they are merely that? A good picture painted to dig out your worst desires. A stray ray of sunlight that does nothing but germinate weeds you never wanted to grow.
A good dream is nothing but an overgrown nightmare. Bleeding into the reality of your waking life, tormenting you when you’re awake.