I had a nightmare last night, I don't know what about. That's the thing about my nightmares. They vanish as soon as I open my eyes. But I remember that I had a nightmare. It leaves me with a jittery, uneasy feeling for the day.
And the kick of it is, I know what my nightmares are about. I know what I fear. Being alone. I'm terrified of loneliness, yet I spend my free time isolated, by choice. It's a catch-22 I'm not sure I want to escape. As if I could anyway.
The funny thing about dreams is that I don't remember them. Well, that's a lie. I remember two kinds. The falling dreams. I remember those. They happen frequently. I hit ground every time. And the Jurassic Park dreams. They are a...unique sort. A night terror all to my own. For years I've been trying to escape Isla Nublar. I never have yet. Freud or a dream theorist would have a grand time with that dream. Dinosaurs, a jungle, a sense of helplessness. So many things you can claim to learn about me.
When I have a good dream, I don't recall a single specific. Never have. Never will. Maybe that's a good thing. Maybe they're nightmares too.
