Dreams.

I have very vivid and very frequent dreams. Sometimes I wake up feeling absolutely exhausted because I was made to do things all night long in my sleep. A few years ago, I began a dream notebook in which I wrote down every dream that I had. I noticed a trend. At that time, my grandpa was very ill (he died a year or so afterward). As perhaps you may have expected, my dream notebook revealed that I was dreaming about him consistently. His condition was different in every dream. In some dreams he was able to walk. In others, he was on the brink of death. Sometimes he would be able to talk to me; sometimes he would be somewhere else and I couldn't find him. Eventually the dreams became so upsetting that I stopped writing them down.

I don't know why we dream, and thus far no one else knows conclusively. I am particularly interested in dreams, however, because I do it so (sometimes annoyingly) often. I thought it'd be interesting to challenge myself to blog my dreams for awhile. My interest in this, as with everything it seems, may wax and wane. Another possibility is that once again I will get so deeply overwhelmed by recalling my dreams that I have to stop to save what little sanity this tired brain feels like it has left (*whine whine* my life isn't bad at all, to tell you the truth; so it be with anxiety and depression that my reality is perpetually skewed). My hope is that I at least continue for awhile. I need a damn hobby. And I need to write. Or something. Don't let this brain dissolve to mush now that I have a graduate degree.

On that note:

"Sleep tight, ya morons!" - The Catcher in the Rye