They usually follow the same themes. Sometimes they involve huge apocalyptic natural disasters, or other times a serial killer is chasing me. Or even demons of a completely different sort altogether: my ex-boyfriends. Those are probably the worst. These "nightmares" have become so frequent that I don't even think of them that way anymore. They are just a part of my dream world. Sometimes I dream happier things. But that occurs less often. And they are less vivid. But my dreams, whatever they are, usually have some sort of explanation or connection to my real world.
The dream I had last night was so real, but I have no idea where the idea came from. It was a story. I was sitting in a large car. A suburban actually. I was sitting in the backseat and a woman, a much older woman, was siting in the seat in front of me. Someone handed me a newspaper, they told me to read an article the woman in front of me had written. It was the saddest story. She had become very close to a student she had taught, and they fell in love. In the end, the taboo situation was too much for him to handle, and he killed himself. Everything I saw about their story was through her eyes. Like flashbacks that you see in tv shows. That is the first time I can ever remember dreaming through someone else's eyes. And the strangest thing is, the story, while it was so real, had absolutely no connection to anything I can think of. No movies I've watched lately. No books I've read. Nothing I've ever read in class.
So Freudian scholars, what do you think it means? Have I gone a little mad? Or am I just looking at paintings like these a little too much?
The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters-Goya