Why do I keep having dreams that feel all too familiar? As if I have experienced them before?
I swear I find myself amongst my conscience’s projections and telling it that I’ve been here, done this. Three nights in a row?!
Perhaps the reason for this sensation exists; one I am not yet willing to confront and define.
Anyways, here’s the latest installment to this series.
It begins: a wooded cabin surrounded by old friends. For whatever reason, the narrative plunges us into a dream we could not escape. The cabin morphs into a ranch at the beginning of a siege by the undead. Nazi zombies style with all of the fixins.
You would think a scenario such as this only gives rise to nightmarish fear but that is a generalization.
I notice I am continuing to come to in dreams many may consider nightmares. Apocalypses, witnessing horrors not fit for those of sane mind, etcetera. Perhaps my subconscious enjoys the trickery. These past few tricks were not met with the expected night sweats. Though I do find myself wondering why I don’t react this way whilst in the dreams themselves. Kind of odd.
The air of this specific dream was one that reflected more of an annoyance than anything else. Here we were in a sort of Groundhog Day situation complete with my old terror.
Funny how zombies used to scare me into fits of sleeplessness. Now whenever they make an appearance in my subconscious I quite nearly brush them off as extras to the unfolding drama.
The real cause of distress in this particular night sequence was the entrapment sensation. Try as we might to resurface from this shared dream, we could not return to that primary layer. This was a nice addition on the part of my subconscious puppeteer. The stuckness did fulfill the goal of the nightmare. Though rather poorly if you ask me.
If anything, the fear was outshone more so by the irritation of not being able to fish ourselves out.
Even as the undead skirted about the outer reaches of my dreamed set, my mind was too preoccupied by the notion that this prologue apocalyptic ranch was to be eternity for us.
I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised in this shift of what frightens me. Growing up means a shedding of absurd terror for more practical ones. If I were to analyze this episode of dreaming, I think what I find is an overarching fear of stagnation. To be stuck is quite frightening indeed.
Far more so than a reanimated corpse welcoming in the end of the world.
Hahaha. Oh, man. I am weird. Have a good one.