Dreams.

It’s a little after six in the morning and I’m fully showered, dressed and ready to kick off my day. I’m sitting here, in complete darkness save for the light from my computer, still a little dazed from the sound sleep I had last night and the ensuing dreams that accompanied it.

Earl is always amazed when I tell him about my dreams almost every morning. He’s surprised that I can remember most of my dreams. Is that normal? I remember my dreams from almost every night and every catnap I take. Some dreams are very vivid and memorable in their detail. On the other hand some are very foggy, almost as if I had watched the action through a thick haze or participated covered in molasses. Nevertheless, if I can’t remember the detail of the dream, I can remember the impression that it made upon me and how I felt or currently feel because of it.

I think dreaming is the main reason I love sleeping. For me it’s like going to a movie where I’m the star of an infinite number of shows and I have no idea what’s going to be playing on the big screen.

Goodness, I’m weird.

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