I don’t tend to remember my dreams, or have any memory of even having them. The very few dreams I do remember have tended to be at one extreme or another.
I remember when I was younger, I dreamt of a cool military, arcade style genre. I was a solider, with my elite squad trying to climb a large, winding, metallic staircase. There happened to be a couple of my class mates with me, but obviously, I was the team leader. Climbing these stairs was challenging, we were being attacked. I don’t remember what by, I was too busy being the focus of the dream. Duh.
On the opposite end of the spectrum, I have literally had a dream where I ran a bath... literally nothing happened. At. All. Nothing. The room was literally pure white. Nothing in it. Empty. The tap was running into a standard, white bathtub. Slowly filling. Barely splashing. What. The. Fuck?
I wish I dreamt more. Is dreaming what we meant by this topic or did we our dreams for the future? Oh well.
My dad often tells me his dreams are like a movie. He can control them. Pause them. Rewind to bits he enjoyed. Even go back to previous dreams and replay or change them. Amazing! I’m so jealous of that ability.