At least I remember what the dream was. I had one dream back in junior high or early high school, back before my older brother T.J. had gone to college so all four of us in my family were still living in the same house, that (whatever the dream was) made me wake up convinced that everyone else in the house had died. I got up and went to the door of Mom and Dad's room to hear their breathing and assure myself that I'd just dreamed that. This morning I needed something like that kind of reassurance.
I hope I'm dreaming sexy dreams tonight, instead.
I am lucky in one particular way: I almost never have nightmares. I usually accept the dream as a dream without getting disturbed by it. I usually see my dreaming as a gift. My dreams tend to be vivid and detailed, and sometimes they're actually funny. They're usually fun. Last night, not so much, but my subconscious's track record is still heavily good-dream-y.
