Dream of a Dream

Ah dreams.  The ever wonderful visions of the night.  Stories of unknown appearing as they may within the mind of only one person, to be shared by word if so desired.  So why am I beginning to ramble about them?  Simple, I've had far too many dreams in the resent past.  You must have dreams, we all do.  Whether or not we remember them when we wake is the question.  Have you had any interesting dreams lately?  I might as well tell you one of mine.

Last night, I dreamed that I was helping save a herd of endangered buffalo (or what looked like the fluffy white versions of buffalo).  Then once they were out of harms way, I went home where, to my surprise, there was my entire team, plus some others I had never seen before.  Apparently, in my dream, I knew everyone, but in reality, I have no clue who anyone was; no face ringing any bells.  Well, one of the girls on my team elbowed me and whispered something that sounded like there were a few guys here who were going to take the women.  Great.  Looking down, I realized that my outfit had changed from the hunting gear to a nightgown.  Another perfect moment.  Smart me kept to the edges of the group where I busied myself with cleaning, or whatever it was.  Then I heard a guy behind me saying that I was his, his hand grabbing my shoulder, spinning me to face him.  The grin on his face sickened me.  However, someone else on the other side of the room called out that I was already taken.  When I looked at the guy who yelled, my jaw dropped.  Not only was he cute, but I had this overwhelming feeling to trust him.  And as timing would have it, I woke up.

My rescuer's face still in the forefront of my mind, I realized something, I recognized him from another dream I had.  Talk about overlap.  He was my teammate in my older dream as well.  That one saving my friend from a terrible situation.  Guessing that I found my dream man!  Of course, when it came to looks, I shake my head at myself.  My dream man looks very much like a character I've created, except for the eyes.  Oy vey, must be me being single again that's bringing all this up.

However, dreamy men aside, I've realized that some of my writing has permeated my dreamworld.  If it's reversed, then I haven't realized it yet.  I know I have an active imagination, but this was ridiculous!  Come on, my dreamworld, a place where the unknown is supposed to be random.  Then again, I can see how dreams can help the writing process.  Throwing out randomness that, if we remember when we wake, could be helpful.  I haven't really pulled any inspiration from my dreams, but I also don't need to use fluffy, white buffalo in any of my stories either.  Mr. Dream man of mine has already made an appearance, but I'm putting that in the 'Story to Dreams' file.