Over the course of the past couple of weeks, I’ve been remembering snippets of dreams that I’m having between snooze alarms that all have one thing in common. All the dreams have taken place in the house of my childhood. The frustrating thing is that I can’t remember the scenarios, just the fact that I’m in the house I lived in until I was 12 years old. I have a really good memory for the most part (of my childhood, that is, not so much what happened this morning or last week or a year ago.) I remember the house quite well. But I need to find out what these dreams are and why I keep dreaming of that house. I fervently believe that our dreams are our subconscience trying to speak to us. Mine seems to be hellbent on saying something.
I don’t normally have such a hard time recalling my dreams. Problem is that, after hitting the snooze button as many times as I have lately, when I do finally get out of bed, I’m rushed and don’t have time to think. And then different times during the course of my day, parts of the dream will flash through my mind but not enough that I can piece things together. I’m hoping that Saturday morning will provide me with the opportunity to lay in bed long enough to allow me to do that. Here’s hoping that the dreams continue long enough for that to happen.
Oh, the other weirdness to all this. All these dreams as well as others I have had lately all have yellow backgrounds. Strange.