My reality often seeps into my dreams. Nightmares invoke very powerful emotion, mostly fear and anger. And good dreams are usually of the supernatural and magical type. I enjoy those.
It’s uncommon for me to dream about people that I know except for my family or best friends. They are randomly inserted into plots even if they don’t have a central role. If my dream is set in a post apocalyptic world, which happens a lot, my family will be a part of the group of people that I’m camping with, even if I don’t speak directly to any of them. Classmates and old friends make appearances. It’s rare, but it happens.
Having vivid, lucid, dreams is a part of my life, and a part of me. I began writing my dreams in my diaries at age 12. They tended to be a lot more sexual in nature back then. I can confidently say that I dream on a regular basis. I enjoy them and interpret them as my mind processing the events and thoughts I experience in consciousness. If I am feeling anxious about family matters, I often dream I’m in a screaming match with one of them. It’s usually my mother or an older sister. The fight always starts with them chewing me out for something they think I did wrong. Clearly, the ghosts of my childhood are still with me.
Trying to write my dreams in my journal is both taking up too much space, and too slow of a process. It’s much easier for me to use my notes app on my phone and use talk to text. Right now I have over 200 dreams stored. I feel proud. I’m proud of my mind and how connected my conscious and subconscious seem to be.