So a few months ago, I decided to start keeping a dream journal. I believe in the theory that your dreams connect to real life, and the things that you dream about are the things you think about subconsciously, or the things you are stressed, worried or excited about. I just thought it would be really interesting to look back on. I must admit I haven’t been to good at remembering to use it lately, when I first started it as soon as I woke up I’d scribble something barely recognisable down (which is why some of my dreams seem a bit odd and nonsensical.) The past few days though I have had dreams and just gone straight back to sleep after waking from them because I just like sleep a lot. When I was looking back at the dreams I’d had though, I found them slightly amusing because of how little sense they made.
Went on holiday. Giant bugs everywhere.
Started art school and broke phone and chair.
In swimming pool but still had to do exams.
Held myself as a baby. Fat. Time travel.
Went on a train. Met two girls, one tried to give me English breakfast but it was dirty and mouldy.
Went to Georgia with mum to climb a mountain.
Accidentally got trapped in someone else’s apartment. Serial killer?
Pregnant. Everyone giving me presents.
Mum was interviewing a serial killer for a magazine. I was there. Awkward. Didn’t want to set her off.
“People think dreams aren’t real just because they aren’t made of matter, of particles. Dreams are real. But they are made of viewpoints, of images, of memories and puns and lost hopes.” – Neil Gaiman