Most Likely to See You In Her Dreams
I have this recurring dream. I've had it since the day I woke up with my hair parted in another direction, after I tried to change the way things were. I don't think I seem as neurotic as I am. But I am. And it's not something I can just sleep off, but I tried.
It starts the same way every time; I am hustling down a dark path on a road that looks as though it could belong in my the same rural town I spent middle school summers in, just off Main street. I feel like I'm being followed and it's as familiar as it is unnatural. I'm approaching a house with a ton of commotion and I'm not sure which way to enter but I feel a pull to find someone, or something. Nothing is in focus except me. I'm on a mission but I can't quite pull it off and I can't say anything (which for me is much more nightmare than dream state). I get into the house, hustle past a murky cast of characters and approach the room I'm looking for. It's upstairs and the stairwell is long and narrowing around me. I'm searching for something up there and it feels tense in the air. My breath is fleeting with my dreaming. I already know I'll wake too fast to retain anything so the moments are heightened.
When 90% of your inner monologue comes from movies of the late nineties, you'll spend your whole waking life waiting for the ghost of your dreams to say "can I keep you?" But you really cannot gain control of the narrative, not so far anyway. I'm really not trying to get too meta, but I am trying to process how my dependence on screens may be hindering my ability to seek answers about myself in my dreams. There's a trick to lucid dreaming when you're first getting the hang of it. You have to scrawl something on your hand before you go to bed and remember to check for it while you're under. So much of what we've dreamt of starts to fog over after a while. But that doesn't make it any less clear when I wake up. And then I can't sleep, so I just keep scrolling.