Strange Dreams

I’ve done some terrible things, but my greatest transgressions have occurred in my strange dreams. I don’t want to psychoanalyze too much here, trying to figure out what it all means or if I should be handed over to mental health specialists. I only know that remembered strange dreams can be a form of entertainment unto themselves.

Sometimes, my dreams turn into story ideas I hope to write later. Other dreams reveal insights about people or myself or solve a problem I’ve been struggling with.

Scientists say the most vivid dreams come during the brief REM (Rapid Eye Movement) period toward the end of a deep sleep cycle. Dreams tend to last longer as the night goes on, anywhere from a few minutes to half an hour. Lucid dreams are those in which we know we are dreaming and may be able to control the story of our strange dreams.

Strange Dreams in the Flick!

In my strange dreams, I can fly. I’ve noticed I only have these dreams when my weight is at its lowest. In my dreams, I struggle to drive the car from the back seat. In Dreamland, I always have a classroom of rowdy students with no desks or chairs, and I have forgotten to plan a lesson. Recently, I’ve been dreaming that I’m in school getting ready to teach, but I can’t find my classroom. The administration has moved it. Dreaming usually finds me searching for matching clothes, but showing up without clothes is much worse.

Most of my dreams involve searching for a bathroom. It’s usually good if I don’t find one while sleeping. My friend Mary Lou had a dream about seeing her bathroom full of owls, and she called it the flick.

Strange Dreams When I’m Homesick?

My dreams sometimes feature people I haven’t seen in 30 years or sometimes include people who haven’t lived on this earth for quite a while. My mother shows up often. I’m always grateful for a visit with Mom in my strange dreams.

Usually, my dreams take place in locations that were familiar to me in childhood: the original church structure with its tiny sanctuary and damp basement classrooms, the house in Thompsontown where I spent my elementary years, the grocery store where I fawned over the supply of penny candy by the cash register.

Wake Up!

In my dreams, I made a nest of pillows and blankets behind the desk of the teacher across the hall, abandoned my husband and left him in the hands of international terrorists disguised as pest control workers, wrapped my brother up as a mummy. Sadly for my brother, I also sleep walk. I’ve outrun aliens, bears, spiders, Amish, and indescribable monsters.

I often dream about something falling down behind the bed. I wake Rich and tell him to look for what I’ve lost. Or there is a spider dangling in front of my face, and I need my husband to turn on the light. Once, I woke Rich and told him to “Turn the crank.” Rich usually suffers from my dreams as much as I do.

The Toaster Dream…

One of the most memorable and vivid dreams came a few days after one of life’s most significant trials. Over the years, I have shared this story with my students. During the spelling test, I would weave the week’s spelling words into this story. Unfortunately, some students got so wrapped up in the story they couldn’t remember the words. Older siblings would often nudge younger siblings, “Ask Mrs. Richmond to tell the toaster story.”

My first husband had returned to our old two-story house to collect the remainder of his things. He was moving out. Along with his tools, bowling trophies, and a few clothes, he took the family toaster. It was an old toaster, his grandmother’s, with a rounded top and a fabric-covered cord frayed beyond safety. I was working several part-time jobs, raising children, and attending college then, and I couldn’t afford to replace the toaster.

Shortly after his visit, I had a strange dream. My estranged husband was very small, only about four inches high, and standing on the countertop beside the toaster. Having just a few feelings of anger, I picked the little guy up and dropped him into the toaster slot where you put a single slice of bread. Then I pressed down the button.

When the toaster made the all-done clanging noise, a small, non-moving form emerged, covered in charcoal. I stood there staring at my former husband. Realizing I had committed a dreadful act, I lifted the traitorous former spouse between two fingers, unplugged the old toaster, and buried both at the bottom of a full plastic garbage bag. I needed to get rid of the evidence. I carried the convicting, overstuffed bag outside and placed it in the back seat of my car.

As I backed out of the driveway, trying to determine where I could dump the trash without being caught, I began to feel a great deal of guilt. I knew I couldn’t hide this dreadful crime. My Christian convictions took over, and I decided to drive to the police station and confess what I had done.

When I awoke, I was sure I would soon be going to prison. It took quite a while to realize my husband was somewhere alive and full-sized, and I was off the hook. Years later, when our relationship had become more amiable, I told that story to my ex-husband. He had a good laugh. I wonder, though, if he ever has terrifying dreams about toasters.

Why I Wake Up Tired…

Like most people, my dreams tend to run from one bizarre scene into the next for what seems like hours. Sometimes, I feel like I’ve been striving for most of the night, though it was probably only a few seconds in the early morning hours. I won’t tell you the dreams about the insects invading my house or how the eighty-year-old men at the doctor’s office were trying to figure out what was wrong with me. You probably have your own thoughts about that.

Some say dreams are an important part of processing emotions and memories. Others say dreams come because of eating the wrong foods late at night. Maybe I should stop eating my snack before bedtime. I’m sure my husband would sleep better.