After i died in my dream, my friends could tell when i was near them even though they couldn’t see me. I could tell how well someone knew me by how much they reacted to my presence. I finally did manage to communicate with someone, but i don’t remember who it was. I wish i did.
I can only remember being killed in a dream one other time recently, and that time i woke up immediately because i had been abruptly cut out of the narrative of the dream. Don’t ask me how i managed to stick around this time … i think it was just the Benadryl keeping me drowsy. I woke up a few times in the middle and then dove right back in, as if coming up for air momentarily. I popped right up at 8am though, and even made it to class on time. Imagine that.
It was about halfway into the night that i figured it all out; the management had paid them off to come and take us hostage and wave their guns around. I wasn’t sure if anyone was on the take or anything like that, but it all made sense. The women with her gun pointed at me confirmed it with her wide eyes as i laid out my supposition for her. Somehow the some of those hired goons got wind, though, and they pulled me away from the rest of the hostages. I thought they were gonna rough me up or something, but they just told me that i should take a bathroom break. I was pretty frightened by this, but they just lead me to the bathroom and waited as i entered the stall. I stood there for a second, breathing, and i heard a noise in the next stall over. I looked up, and one of the men was peering over the top of the wall at me. I saw his gun. The next thing i knew i was leaning up against the bathroom wall with blood running down the side of my face. Sortof funny how you can stand there and narrate through your own death scene, huh? The whole hostage ordeal ended a little while after, and they blew up the building. Blew it up. So, i never got a nice casket or anything. Of course, i had half the night left to play out, so i was forced to come back as a ghost. But that’s another story altogether.
I took a massive nap last night, but still wanted to get a whole night’s sleep, so i took 25mg of Benadryl to fight off my continually oncoming cold and to make me drowsy, and then laid down. Apparently, medicated drowsiness on top of napped-up alertness makes for some whacked dreams …. I was never totally asleep for most of the night, instead just keeping a continual dream narrative to make sure i had my eyes shut. At some points it was a real dream that had its own momentum and motivation, but sometimes i got to take the reigns. I couldn’t possibly recount the whole thing, but it was a cross between summer camp, new student orientation, a hostage crisis, and an episode of the x-files.
I had a dream about the price is right. I used to live for the days i would be able to stay home from school and watch that show. Whether i was sick, taking a day off, or having a snow day, i would always be tuned into CBS at the right time for Bob Barker and that giant freaking wheel. The giant freaking wheel was in my dream, too.
I haven’t seen it in years, though.
They say flying in dreams is a sign of sexual frustration. Which, for a while was making sense, but the way that they’ve been coming and going recently have absolutely no connection to my groin, so it’s gotta be something else. I mean, if it was really a sign of sexual frustration, i’d probably actually think i could fly… maybe that’s why people jump off of buildings?