What Dreams May Come?

Oh, if only wishes came true.  It's fun to imagine what could be, might be, will be, isn't it?  Everyone dreams - it's normal, healthy even.  At least I hope it is, because I certainly do a lot of it.  And if wishes were fishes, well I might actually enjoy fishing then.  Hell, I might even own a fishing rod.  Or should I call it a pole?  See, I'm so not into fishing that I don't even know that much.  Good grief.

I should probably preface everything I say with one fact: I am a dork.  "No, no!" I hear you say, but yes, it's true.  I'm a dork.  I just mask it very well with suave hand gestures and glasses that make me look really sophisticated.  The other day I was in the student rec center (The Rec, as we here call it), on a treadmill, just doin' my thing.  I stumbled - twice.  How did I accomplish this?  I was dreaming about being a rock star guitarist while listening to my tunes.  It's how I survive running at all.  While I listen to Sevendust or Disturbed or Seether rocking out between my ears, I imagine rocking hard, playing the lead guitar and seeing everyone in the Cardio Room jam with me.  Oh yeah, baby.  It's all I can do to not head-bob like a chicken.

Part of this whole dreaming thing probably comes from the many books I read (and of course my insatiable movie appetite), and my utter inability to not try to interject myself into the story.  It took me forever to read The Lord of the Rings: I kept putting the book down to play it out how I would have done it.  It was even worse when I watched Zombieland - probably because I think a lot about what I would do in a zombie apocalypse (which is normal and just good planning!).  But the worst - or best - of it is when I'm bicycling on a trail (or really in general): it's like I airdrop into The Zone and my mind just dreams and wanders and stays there.  My brain was built for wool-gathering, and I have refined it into an art form.  It's like being asleep while being totally awake.  It's how I manage to bicycle 50 miles in a single afternoon (and everyone assures me that is pretty beastly).

But the real mother lode is when I sleep - I wish I could record that shit.  I've had some pretty awesome dreams (and nightmares) that really deserve to be written down, developed for their creative potential.  The problem is most of it is visual, and I can't aptly put words to the images (I'd call them visions, but I don't want to sounds like a prophet).  Last week, hopped up on benadryl, I had some dreams where shit was crazy colours and I was flying and I was a warrior kicking ass, but out of body, and I had hair like a troll doll (do you remember those? I never had any myself).  It was freaking awesome.  I wish I remembered more of it, but I can't write down what's seen with the mind's eye.  It has to be experienced.  Or am I just being way too philosophical about that?  Can we get the Dalai Lama's opinion?

But the brutal truth of it is, friends, if wishes were fishes, we'd all cast nets.