I think aliens are infiltrating my dreams and trying to turn me into a boring adult. Let me explain.
A few months ago I started having these new kinds of dreams, where I’d be doing totally normal things like driving or making coffee or going to school. They were strange in the way that dreams are (the coffee kept on disappearing and I could never get to where I wanted to drive), but they had become frighteningly regular for me. I was basically dreaming about stuff that normal adult people do in their normal (boring) adult lives. Where were the dinosaurs to attack me as I was driving? Where were the werewolves to stalk me as I made my coffee? Where did my really awesome dreams go? But no really you guys, I may start putting illustrations of my old dreams on milk cartons. I want them back.
A typical dream for me about two years ago would go something like this: I’m on a ship looking out across the water. The water is a really bright green. Also, it’s glowing. I spot another ship on the horizon and try to alert my crew mates. As the enemy ship opens fire on our ship, I realize that all my crew mates are zombies and are slowly trying to eat me or turn me into one of them or make me eat tomato soup or whatever zombies do (I’M NO EXPERT). I also hate tomato soup. I then abandon ship and manage to escape by swimming through a sewer only to find out that everyone in the real world is a zombie too. Everyone wants to eat me (just like high school!).
I also once had this really awesome dream where my class went on a safari. We got really lost and these plants started trying to eat us. One of the plants eventually ate my teacher and one of my friends. Actually, it wasn’t awesome at all. It was scary and I am now wary of gardening. Point is, my dreams used to be really wild and creative and strange. I feel like these new dreams are reflective of my progression into the world of boringness.
In fourth grade, my friends and I spent our time researching Atlantis and the Bermuda Triangle, inventing games, and looking in the woods for evidence of the last existing unicorn. Her name was Lunaria and she was trying to lead us to her so that we could save her from those who wanted to hunt her for her horn. I spent most of my time reading murder mysteries, books about talking mice, and sci-fi series. I was free to read what I wanted and do what I wanted. I had oodles of time and didn’t have to worry about anything except what I would do at recess. I don’t even think I was aware of my appearance or how my behavior came off to others, so I didn’t have to deal with any major insecurities yet.
My time now is now divided between doing schoolwork and sleeping. I have time to read only magazine articles and short stories, and when I hang out with my friends, we no longer search for unicorns or try to uncover the mysteries of Atlantis. When you’re younger, you have all this time and freedom to do what you want. In fact, people WANT you to be weird and creative and talk about dinosaurs all the time. There’s just a point when you trade in your Redwall books* for Dostoevsky. You change from searching for the last unicorn left on earth to searching for your car keys. I’m by no means an adult, but I feel like I’ve lost a certain measure of freedom.
I had another dream with a really boring premise last night. It’s too boring to write about. Writing about it would be as boring as talking about my drive up to visit my brother at college this weekend. I mean, it was a really long ride and I just listened to my iPod and read. We even stopped to get gas once. But I would never write about that. It would be too boring. Just like my life this week. Sorry! ♦
* This is another thing that apparently my editors have never heard of? Yeesh! This is what they are. You knew that, right?