In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This).”
Ever been somewhere and know that you have been there and done that before? It’s a creepy feeling that crawls up your spine and settles itself at the nape of your neck. It then commences to perform a sinuous shimmy that makes you feel like an army of snakes have taken up residence across your shoulders and have sent little tentacles out to perform an unsettling terrifying massage on your scalp and back down your spine.
The people around you generally notice. Be it by the weird look that you get in your eye, or the shiver that racks your whole body that alerts you to the fact. They notice and their foreheads crease, you can see the questions forming behind their eyes.
“Are you sick? Are you Ok? What’s the matter with you? Should I move?” and for most of us, we notice without noticing, and give a nervous grin and a little giggle. We blame it on a draft, or claim we felt something on us, or we just tell them plain out that it’s Deja Vu. All the while trying hard to ignore the tentacles, and the feel of this unseen invader squirming alone or nerve endings.
At least that’s how it is for me when I dream. I don’t generally remember the dreams. I only know I’ve dreamed when I wake suddenly after the falling dream, or have to run to the lavatory after the dream of the never ending toilets. Don’t judge, I have it on good authority that we all have that one. Those dreams I tend to dismiss. Or I used to dismiss.
You see there’s also the other type of dream I have. The ones that I really can’t remember, the ones that I wake from, sometimes fight my way out of, that leave me feeling uneasy and anxious all day. Most days I just let it go, convince myself that I should get more hours of nappy time or rethink the concept of a celebratory glass of wine, or chocolate, or whatever before bed.
But then days or weeks later I’ll be sitting somewhere, or walking or speaking to someone, and I get the feeling. Usually it’s one little thing that I recognize and then it all comes rushing back, and for a second or two I know, just know, that I have been here, I’ve done all this. I know that the girl in the dress is gonna scratch that itch when she thinks nobody is looking. I know that if I turn around the man behind me will be looking at me. I know that the lady in the hat is going to knock off her hat when she adjusts her wig.
It’s eerie and creepy enough by itself. But when I think back to the falling dream or the one about the infinite toilets that I visit time and time again to never be satisfied, I wonder if one day those dreams won’t be deja vu too. One day I might I might be suffer bladder issues, or worse, meet my doom falling off a cliff.
The dream doesn’t end after waking, and that’s the real creepy part. That’s the part that could categorize the experience as a nightmare.