Dream Good Dreams & All Good Things (Sleep Isn't What It Used To Be) Sleeping isn't what it used to be, before the creaking of age and a bladder that whinges when asked to hold more than a shot glass worth of liquid. That has taken its toll on my dreams. Good dreams are rare now. The closest to good dreams these days are the bizarre ones, where I wake up thinking why the hell did I dream that? I mean, most times you know why certain things creep into your dreams; you've seen a movie, heard a song, or had a conversation where the bizarre stuff decided to settle in your subconscious; you can pinpoint it and say, “Yeah, that must have been it.” My nightmares have always been vivid; there's one from my childhood I still remember— running down a long pier being shot at by machine guns , feeling each bullet as it hit, and thinking it won't hurt once I hit the water. No reason why I would dream something like that; maybe it was a past life being recalled. Recently, the sleep time between toilet runs has submersed me in nightmares so deep my husband has had to shake me awake. Awful dreams of attempted murder and violation. I can't put a finger on any reason for them. My life has so much good in it— my children are happy and healthy, I'm retired with work headaches a thing in the past, there are vacations to plan, and a wedding coming soon, so I just don't know why. I imagine there are psychologists who might give me insight, maybe offer comfort that dreams don't always mean what they seem to on the surface. I already know that. Every night when I was a child my mother's final words at bedtime were, “Goodnight. I love you. Dream of angels and all good things.” I'd just like to fall asleep and have my mother's wish come true.
~Elise Skidmore ©2023