What dreams may come

Dreams have always boggled mankind. A bevy of mental images strewn by our complex subconscious, dreams hold many meanings, some of which we easily misinterpret. Even the so-called experts of dreams have yet to find the definitive truths regarding the uncharted realm of our minds. Of course, can we really blame them? Consider for a moment that no two people are exactly the same, and then you have numerous ideas clashing together in a maelstrom of emotions, biases and whatnot. It wouldn't be a stretch to claim that dreams are unique to their owner, oh no, not at all.

I like dreams, they are certainly preferable to nightmares. But nightmares are just bad dreams, a representation of what we do not fully comprehend. It is simply our imagination twisted by that ignorance, giving birth to the bastard children of inherent reluctance to the unknown and lack of understanding of what is beyond our bubble of knowledge.

I would daresay however, that certain dreams are far worse than nightmares. Take for example, a dream that presented itself quite recently. In this lifelike vision, I saw the past change, shifting to a more desirable outcome, one that has eluded me in reality. Oh Lady Reality, you heartless bitch. How I loathe and adore thee.

What made this imagery even more loathsome is presence of a current prospect, forced to watch as I shut her off abruptly from the possibilities of our collaboration. Would she really care? This musing was fleeting, as bliss took me captive, promising a delightful prison of which I would joyfully cage myself into, or so I thought. While the dream was indeed so life-like that I found myself asking if this is really happening, the truth was slowly beginning to manifest itself. Starting as a slow murmur, it built itself up, slapping me silly and finally reminding me of the cold, harsh truth. This was not real.

One might ask, why do I consider this vision distasteful? Surely my truest desires are coming true, only in my head yes, but the normal reaction would be a pleasant one, correct? It is perhaps my new found grasp of morality, or despite how badly I want this fake reality to come into being I know it to be nothing but a lie. It's a distinct possibility that I did not want to ruin the present, no matter how uncertain it is. Or maybe, just maybe, this was not what I really wanted?

It is for this very reason that despite waking up without the cold sweat and uncontrollable shaking akin to vivid incubi, I would gladly welcome such minute irritations over the nagging feeling of mixed wonderment and muddiness. The aftermath of having dreams that border between true desire, clairvoyance and wishful thinking have a tendency to make us stop and look, wondering what might have been, what could be, and even what may never be.

Questions have a way of popping up like mushrooms, and in this case the figurative fungi was sprouting out in full force. Was I looking at an alternate reality, a path that I was unable to explore in the storyline of my existence? Or was I looking at a sign that there is a second chance and would ignoring this sign close that window of opportunity for all eternity? Or was I simply looking at the mirror image of my regrets and failed aspirations taking shape in my dreams?

Dreams like these, hopefully come and go, however the fallout - the markings - that they leave will probably come back to haunt us over and over again, and unfortunately, the answers and the solutions, may never come to us in this lifetime.