I have two recurring dreams. In the first, which I've had in different versions for nearly ten years now, I am back in high school, living at home with my mother. The horror of having to repeat high school combined with the complete lack of independence combined with living with my mother again equals an undue amount of fictional stress. I'm not sure why my subconscious wishes to take me back to those dark days, when there was little money, little stability, and I was a hard-core geek [not the cool kind popping up at your favorite independent coffee shops today]. I turned to writing during that period as survival. I'm not sure there was much of a choice. I didn't drink or do drugs, nor was I close to having a boyfriend in high school, so I needed something to occupy my time. I understand that my past is what's shaped my present, so I'm not exactly full of regret for those years. But I can tell you this with complete confidence: I do not wish to relive them. Not for all the money in the world would I go back to high school.
In the second recurring dream, which started after the purchase of my first home in April, I live in a house with so many rooms that I can't keep track of them all. My current home in 2 stories, 5 bedrooms—more house than I need, certainly, but it's what I ended up with. In my dreams, however, I'm always dwelling in a three-story mansion, and there are often rooms on the top floor that I avoid because they're supposedly haunted. In my dream last night, I'd just finished painting a bedroom on the third floor, and was anxiously awaiting rearranging and redecorating it before starting in on my next endeavor. Also in this dream, there happened to be a grocery store attached to the first floor of my house. I didn't think this odd, but convenient. There is no stress in these dreams, but rather possibility, excitement, a sense of home. Yet for some reason, my brain feels the need to make me relive these scenarios again and again.
I'm not much for dream interpretation, although my best friend believes that every dream has a purpose—that they reveal something to us that we could not otherwise see. While I don't roll my eyes every time she pulls out her dream book [basically an index of nouns and verbs which indicate what a dream may mean], I don't put that much merit in analyzing my dreams. Perhaps it's because I'm afraid of what I might discover about myself, perhaps it's because I'm afraid I won't discover anything at all. Either way, I'm still dreaming, awake or asleep.