Bad dreams suck.
They tear at your consciousness when you’re unconscious. Then you wake up and it floats back in and out of your head at odd moments during the day, threatening your good mood, making you think of the terrible ‘what ifs’ in the world. They’re crazy and scary and unpredictable, and leave you shaking and sweaty sometimes, with a heart racing akin to … (OK, thinking of a non-pop-culture icon here for SK : ) … heart racing like an Arabian horse coming in first place at the Triple Crown!
Oh but wait, that's good heart-racing, isn't it? Something good is happening when a horse wins a race, so it's probably a happy-heart-racing horse...
Let's see... heart racing in a bad way...
You're crouched in an alley in the fetal position, hands covering the top of your head, elbows jutting out, and there's a thug standing over you with a gun and he's lifted the safety hold and has threatened to shoot you point-blank. Yeah, that's the shaking, sweaty, scary bad dream image I want to convey.
So yes, bad dreams are simply put: bad. I don’t know why we have ‘em, or what they mean, or if they signify a deep-seated (I always get that mixed up with deep-seeded, and always confuse "in the same vein" as well) angst or worry in one’s life?
So, when I woke AJers up this morning for school, his eyes were still closed and he said, “Who’s crying?”
“Honey, no one’s crying. It’s just time for school.”
I then went downstairs and did whatever I do to prepare whatever kids with whatever they need to be at the bus stop at whatever morning.
Ajers stumbles down. Sits at the table.
“Whew,” he shakes his head. “Scariest dream E V E R!”
“Was it about someone crying?” I asked, remembering he commented on that when he first woke up.
"In a bikini!”