One of the coolest dreams I ever had was about a brick house on a hill. It was around dusk and I was seeking refuge, from what I don’t remember. I just knew it would be the perfect place to seek shelter.
It was a very modern house with large windows of every shape and a red shingled roof. Inside, immediately to the right was a large spiraling staircase that stretched for several stories. There, in the center of the staircase hung the first wind chime. It was the largest wind chime in the house, at least fifty or sixty feet. Silver chimes hung in a circle and in the center of the chimes hung a stunning crystal the size of a bowling ball that cast rainbows on every wall.
To the left of the staircase was the living area. A fireplace and mantle sat across the room, facing the front wall. Statues of faeries, dragons, and other mythical creatures sat on the mantle beneath a giant ceramic clock. The tiles of the clock were mostly several shades of yellow that formed a Celtic sun with blue and green background designs. Several wind chimes, ranging in size from a few inches to several feet long, hung from the ceiling. The one I remember the most hung right next to the window. It’s longest scarlet chimes were at least four feet long. Another wind chime was made of purple and silver spirals. Bronze butterflies made up the chimes of another. Sunbeams poured through the open windows, casting a faint glow on everything it touched, and even though there was no wind, the chimes sang in perfect pitch. Everywhere I turned, wind chimes of every size, shape, and color.
I can only guess my mind modeled the Wind Chime House after this wind chime building at Scarborough Faire. One day, I’d really like to write a story about it.
I love my dreams. Well, most of them. Some of them are actually really disturbing, but ones like The Wind Chime House make it all worth it. One of my goals in life is to master the art of lucid dreaming. Although I’m not there yet, I’ve gotten better at saving myself from unpleasant situations. Several of my nightmares involve a highway that is hundreds of thousands of feet in the air and I always end up driving off of it. It’s usually about that time when I think to myself, “I don’t want to be here anymore,” and the dream changes. Last night, I had an extraordinarily creepy dream, even for me. I dreamt that my entire arm was covered in spiders and they were biting me over and over again. Now, I’m not scared of spiders (usually), but there were so many of them and they were so gross and they kept biting me and it actually really hurt, so I thought to myself, “Okay, time to go back,” and I immediately transported to a different dream. However, my arm and hand were still bright red and stinging from all the spider bites. How weird and how cool is that? That we can feel pain from something that isn’t even there?
I’ve managed to lucid dream a couple of times. Apparently, I’m not very ambitious, because every time I figure out that I’m dreaming and that I can literally do anything, all I ever want to do is fly. I fly everywhere. I even once stopped to gloat at a little kid in my dream that I could fly and she couldn’t. Wow, way to be a jerk, dream self. The one time I ever did anything other than fly was plan out a romantic date night with Ben Barnes (aka Prince Caspian from Narnia), but the moment he showed up, I sent him away to change shirts and I woke up before he came back!
WHAT THE HECK, BRAIN?! Why would you DO that?! You get Ben Barnes, you KEEP HIM! You don’t just dismiss him because he’s wearing the wrong shirt!!!
I was so mad when I woke up from that one. It was also the last time I effectively lucid dreamed. I’m hoping that the fact that I can somewhat control the bad stuff in my dreams means I’m getting closer to achieving overall lucidness.
There have also been moments in dreams where my dream self will remember dreams that I’d had months earlier, that my conscious self had forgotten. Those are weird. My most recent one I had, I was at this train-themed amusement part with my best friend. We were on the train that you had to take to get there and I was showing her around and telling her about the trip that my high school class and I had taken on that same train to that same amusement park. I’d had that dream about my class at least six months or so earlier and I hadn’t thought about it or remembered it until I woke up the next morning. It’s almost like existing in two separate worlds. My conscious self remembers what goes on during the day, my dream self remembers what goes on at night.
I’ve also had dreams where, honestly, I don’t know what I’m thinking. Well actually yes, I know exactly what I’m thinking, and it pretty much just proves what a truly um… terrible and paranoid individual I am. I think I’ve already shared the stories of whenever I dream about zombies, I lock myself away in the safest room and leave everyone else (including my blind friend) to fend for themselves.
I’ve also had dreams where I’m about to undergo surgery to have one of my legs amputated. Oddly enough, I never care that I’m about to lose a leg. I do care, however, that I have to be put under anesthesia and if there is one thing I hate in this world, it is going under anesthesia. I’ve only been under once and it was like waking up from being hit by a truck. It was the worst feeling ever. I couldn’t focus on anything, everything had a fuzzy white boarder around it, and I had nausea radiating to my kneecaps. I. Do. Not. Like. Anesthesia. As it turns out, my dream self hates it just as much as my conscious self because it’s all I can talk about to my doctors.
“Now, are you sure you gave me the anti-nausea stuff? Because I hate anesthesia. I always feel so sick after. Remember, I want that medicine. Please, please don’t forget it. Will you just like, inject it into my IV or something? Can you give me a high dose? I really don’t want to be nauseated.”
Seriously, I might actually be a crazy person.
There are a few of my more disturbing dreams (AKA the ones involving bodies and moldy caskets and demonic cemeteries) that I’ve actually incorporated into Cemetery Tours and its sequel. I’ll probably write a post about them someday, because they’re actually pretty good and really creepy.
However, I really wanted to end this post on a bright and happy note. Now, I know leg amputations aren’t exactly bright and happy. That’s why I’m including some more photography, of flowers that remind me of my prettier, more lighthearted dreams.
Enjoy, everyone! Talk to you tomorrow.
Happy Valentine’s Day!
All photographs Copyright Jacqueline E. Smith EXCEPT the one of Ben Barnes. Sadly, I do not know him.
A Platform of Sorts 