Mr. Sandman

Last night, Mr. Ginley woke me up to tell me about his dream. I'd hit him in the head with a flashlight. The details weren't clear. Why would I do such a thing? Was it metaphorical? Was I trying to enlighten him.

I didn't spend too much time pondering. I made my trip to the bathroom and trooped back to slumber some more.

This morning, as I debated whether to leave the confines of my warm, cozy, bed to write my blog, he woke up and announced I'd just shot him. Why? Apparently, my response was, "Because I wanted to." He expressed distress and pointed out that it hurt. He said I was nonchalant about the whole thing. "Did I shoot you just once?" I inquired. Yes. Well, then I guess he didn't do anything terribly heinous to provoke me. Was I just in a cranky mood? Did I shoot him just for snoring? Who knows.

Maybe it's just a cautionary tale not to keep guns around. Or flashlights.

There have been many books written about the meaning of dreams. They help to explain some of the more common ones. Like flying. Or arriving at school/work, looking down and realizing I've forgotten to put on my pants. But the books aren't a lot of help with many of the weird images my brain conjures up in a night.

Much of the time I dream about work. I've spent hours proofreading or agonizing over a missed error. The odd thing is, while the people are the same, the setting varies. In many cases, I'm in a huge building with several floors and banks of elevators, and I never seem to get off at the right floor.

Then there is the dream that I'm at my high school, but I don't recognize the layout, and I wander like Moses through the desert to find my Earth Science class. There is a test that day, and by the time I find the right room, the test is over and I've flunked.

Very occasionally, I will have a really cool dream. When I was little, I saw my grandfather in one of these, walking up and down steps in a heavenly setting. (I sure hope this doesn't mean the afterlife is like being stuck on a Stairmaster for all eternity.)

There was also the time when I had the white light dream. All around me was amazingly peaceful and calm. At the breakfast table, I spoke about it, and my dad very nonchalantly told me he'd had the same dream. That's one I wouldn't mind having again. I like waking up calm and relaxed, instead of stressed and worn out.

If my subconscious wanted to be really helpful, it would dream up the winning numbers for the next lottery.

It's not going to happen, of course. But sometimes it's nice to dream!