Who’s to say what's real?

I had a dream yesterday during a midday nap (why yes, I sleep during the day, for no other reason than I like it and because I can). I don’t usually remember my dreams, which is fine by me. Then I don’t have to spend copious amounts of time analyzing them to death. As it is, I like to sleep. It’s usually an enjoyable experience.

But not this time.

On this afternoon I awoke, terrified. My heart was pounding and I felt as if I was still in the dream. Reality didn’t seem quite real. I stayed in my bed for a few minutes, convincing myself that I was indeed in my own bed. That the dream I’d just had wasn’t real. That is was nothing but a nightmare.

Why do our minds think up these evil, evil dreams? Why is it that the same mind that can think up the most wondrous things, sometimes turns against us?

I was afraid to go to sleep last night. And in hindsight it definitely didn’t help that I’ve just begun reading The Sandman series by Neil Gaiman.

As I lay in my bed and it was time to sleep, I was afraid that the dream might come again. I couldn’t relax. My body was full of fear-based adrenaline.

When we are asleep, we are truly defenseless.

Sleep did eventually come.

Luckily, the dream did not. Or if it did, I don’t remember.

The things we experience and most importantly feel during our dreams, linger on in our minds when we’re awake. It blurs the line between that which we call reality and that which is something else entirely.

“Just because it’s a dream, doesn’t mean it’s not real.” – Lucifer (Supernatural*, season 5 episode 1)

*And because I mentioned Supernatural, here is a picture of my favorite of the show, Jensen Ackles.  Isn't he delicious?