Over a few pints of Carlsberg (4, and I'm paying for it today)the conversation veered and dipped and got louder until somehow we found ourselves talking about dreams, or more accurately, nightmares.
When I had concussion I had some real doozies. Falling, breaking my teeth, trying to run but finding my actions treacle like and slow-mo, stuff that didn't exactly nead a Freudian scholar to work out. But that was just during the day. At night, free from the usual numbing effects of sleeping tablets, my mind was in a league of its own and I ran screaming down the corridors of every ghoulish place my mind could make up. It didn't help that the mobile loving wench in the bed next to me cried for someone called 'Bappy!' every night either.
Then one of the party admitted to night terrors, he said his wife frequently wakes him up. He says he flaps his arms about and is so scared he can't even scream, all he can do is groan and flap.
One of the other chaps said he sleep walks and his girlfriend found in him the bathroom a few months back running a bath. When she asked him what he was doing he said he had to 'cool them down'
When she naturally asked who? he got distressed and wanted to know why she couldn't seem them. He was still asleep.
Collectively we all seem to have the same dreams or a variation of the same. There's being chased, fighting, driving cars/riding bikes that have no power and just creep along, trying to run but our legs don't work. We've witnessed people being murdered right in front of us. We've hid from monsters and killers and ghosts, hiding in general. Strangly, we've all been attacked by large animals, lions, sharks, huge dogs, for me a bear and I once watched Puddy being eaten by a tiger and woke up crying and overwhelmed with a feeling of loss.
Then there is the familiarity of some dreams, you know where you are in the dream, you can can almost control it. You say to yourself, "hold up, I"m not opening that red door, I remember what happened the last time, DON'T I MISTER BEAR!"
Sometimes if frightened we can wake ourselves up. Wake up! And poof we're awake, heart shuddering in our chests. Once or twice I've woken myself up, only to slither right back into the dream again after I return to sleep. That sucks.
On the flip side then there are the other dreams, strange, almost movie like dreams, with casts of characters, I solved a murder recently in a shopping centre and am frequently on horseback-very happy dreams. One of the party regularly dreams about saving the life of a girl he knows from drowning, he is on television afterwards being congratulated and a little boy pulls his sleeve and says, 'but mister, she's dead.' and when he turns around she still standing there with a blanket wrapped around her, but clearly a moving corpse. But he says it's not a scary one.
Sometimes I can fly and fly well, gliding and soaring free and unburdened. That's one of my favourite dreams right there and I love the feeing as I run and then swoosh I am airborne.
By pint three we all admitted we have fairly erotic dreams on a regular basis. Strangers, present lovers, past lovers, unsuitable places, unsuitable people you swear in real life you don't fancy at all- and you don't, but at night they are transformed in hot, deep breathing, strong love machines and the first kiss sets you on fire. Teachers, singers, actors, Simon Cowell. Filthy, public, sweaty, pounding headbangily good sex, the kind of sex that makes us blush for a second at some point the next day when you get a flash of it and say tee-hee to yourself.
As nightmares go, there are lots to chose from, but we all agreed last night only a few that so terrified us we have never forgotten them and perhaps that is for the best.
The year my father died I had the most vivid and terrifying dream of death that for weeks afterwards I wept every time I thought of it. I can still remember it in full detail to this day and I can still recall the absolute screeching sickening, heart-stopping horror of being unable to escape or plead with the thing that came for me.
I don't know the cause of dreams, possibly just our tired minds sorting through the jumble of information it takes in every day.
That said, I don't believe all dreams are that, just dreams. I do believe a certain amount of interpretation is good. I've had some crackingly useful dreams about stuff and was able to use some of the information my sleeping mind garnered and put it to use.
Odd, but true.
Dreams, I am not against them, but I would like to hear if any of you share the same type of dreams.
And it's Friday! Yay!