When I was a kid, I had the most vivid of dreams. There were times I’d wake up convinced that what I had “experienced” was real; at other times, I’d wake up in absolute terror, complete with cold sweat.
And still other times the dream would be so interesting that I’d fight against waking so that the dream would, with any luck, continue once I drifted back to sleep.
It is that third type of dream which I most commonly have today, but the dreams of childhood still stand out as the most vivid of all.
One of the earliest dreams that I can recall was of walking down Clark Street with Dad. Most of this dream vanished from memory rather quickly, but what has always remained — this is one of those things which seems like I’ve known it my entire life — was that during the walk, Dad pointed up at the sky and directed my attention to a flying trolley. Yes, a trolley.
Trolleys were by no means an everyday part of my life, and so for several years I was convinced that those things could fly! It didn’t help matters that this dream was one of those which fell into the category of “I freakin’ swear that happened in real life.”
Another dream which stands out very distinctly is one of the few dreams I recall having from early on which had friends in it, not just family. I’m not entirely sure how old I was when I had this dream, nor am I entirely certain that this wasn’t two or more dreams spread out over a few weeks that I’ve amalgamated into one extended production. Yes, that does mean I’m not entirely sure how to put this one into words!
The interior scenes of this dream were clearly shot in a modified version of what was then our house on Clark Street. The exterior shots were filmed on location in the scenic yard of my maternal grandparents. And making a prominent appearance in the dream was my first friend, Laura B., from across the street on Clark.
The dream began (as best as I can recall…) outside of my grandparents’ with Laura explaining to me that she was going to start going to an all girl school and that we’d never get to see each other again. (Okay, yeah, I know… Keep in mind that I couldn’t have been more than six when I had this dream, and Laura wasn’t much older… not that the real life age of anyone affects how they appear in dreams… whatever.) And in the yard was set up four or five large tables covered with pictures our parents had taken of us. It was all very emotional and heartwrenching, but that whole theme quickly changed once the dream(s) switched to the interior.
The house — back on Clark Street — was quite a bit different in the dream than in real life, with one room — where the living room should have been — had no gravity. Yes, yes. The room was also the only safe room, which is important because the “Wonder Years” special of a friend moving away was becoming a made-for-television nightmare. With no idea of who or what was chasing me, I somehow helped several people (presumably my friends at the time, but I don’t recall their faces) back to the safe room.
On the last trip — to find Laura, of course — I found myself hiding underneath a bed as the Enemy drew near. I very vividly remember his entering into the room, and though I only saw him from the shins down, he had a “dog” with him — imagine Zuul from the first Ghostbusters movie and you’ll have a pretty close image. This dream ended when the creature discovered my presence under the bed.
All of that must have been pretty intense at the time. Cold sweats and terror are the only credits that rolled on that picture.
I’ve always had a special interest in my dreams. When I was very young, they made for very distinctive memories, not to mention great school bus discussions. When I hit middle school and my head-first interest with the supernatural, dreams played an integral part in that as well: for example, there were several nights that a couple of friends and I would plan to think hard on certain situations as we went to sleep to (we hoped) force ourselves to have the same dream in order to test the idea of dream sharing.
That never worked quite as planned, but I did have some amazing dreams during that period, such as the one where I was living through the End of the World, complete with giant Jesus & giant Satan sword fighting in a city, “Power Rangers” style.
Any dreams you’d care to share?
Are you a lucid dreamer, then?
One of my other dreams which took place on Clark Street involved King Kong — or some odd variant thereof — and I recall seeking refuge in a large, mostly glass building that I think was some sort of greenhouse thing (which existed only in the dream, not in real life).
And no, typically I am not a lucid dreamer. There are very few dreams where I get the realization that “this is actually a dream,” and when that does happen, I wake up seconds thereafter, whether I want to or not.