Dream a little dream
Hello. How tha’ hell are ya? We did it. We survived 2021. I left parts of my soul in 2021 but hope to build it back in 2022. If I can’t build it back, hopefully I can at least fill it in with love and new memories.
This morning I woke up from a fucked-up dream, and it has affected my entire day. The weird thing about dreams is that I remember so much of them lately. I don’t remember dreaming in my 20s and 30s as vividly as I do now. It probably has to do with all of the different old people medications I take before bed.
Most of the time, I love my dreams. Sometimes they are so detailed and interesting it feels like I have watched a well-written movie. It’s almost like, where is that creativity when I am awake? I need to be better about writing my dreams down in a journal.
I have this weird theory that our dreams are just glimpses into the lives we are living in other dimensions or universes. And for the record, I have thought that for many years — way before all of this Marvel Multiverse stuff.
Luckily, in each universe I have peeked into so far, I am still gay. Thank God.
I can fly in most of my dreams. I think a lot of people fly in their dreams, but I don’t get to fly in a cool way like Superman. I have to fucking flap my arms like some stupid, featherless bird. The take off is always super awkward, but once I am in the air, I am kinda graceful. Then, whenever I land, I have to swoop up right before the ground so I can slow down enough to not crash. Then I speed up my arm flapping, then slow it just enough to land safely.
Typing this out right now makes it sound so stupid, and it is. Why can’t I fly like a superhero? It’s my fucking dream! Is there a way to reprogram my mind?
By the way, when I wake up, I am always surprised that my arms are not sore and tired. I like the flying dreams and don’t think about the weirdness of flapping my arms until much later.
I also have a bunch of dreams where I die. I know some people say that if you die in your dreams, you die in real life. Bullshit. I die all of the time. I have been shot, stabbed, hit by cars and smashed by giant concrete walls.
Each time I die — the exact moment I die — I see myself. It’s like an out of body experience. I keep expecting to feel the pain of whatever injury I have, but I never do. I am always crazy relieved about it not hurting, but I also always feel me leaving my body. It’s a weird tingly feeling — almost like when your arm falls asleep, but it is a whole-body tingle.
I’m not sure why, but I have so many dreams that are about the friends I had when I was young. I’m talking about high school and before. Growing up, I was extremely close to my best friend’s family, and I dream about them way more than I ever dream about my own family. Sometimes the people in the dream are kind of two people. Like, one from my past and one from my present but in one body or one being.
I also have a bunch of dreams where I am in a fight — like, a full out brawl. The sucky thing about those dreams is that I never seem to be able to hit hard enough to hurt anybody. It is so frustrating. I legit want to beat someone’s ass but can’t get enough force behind the punch or kick to do any damage at all.
I have not had a real-world physical altercation in years, and I have only had, like, six fights in my entire life. I’m not sure what that says about me that I can’t hurt anyone, especially when I really want to.
I spend so much time in my dreams trying to get my cell phone to work. I have so many dreams where I need to get a hold of my husband to tell him where
I am or to come get me, and, for whatever reason, I can’t get the freaking call to go through, or the phone doesn’t work at all. In one dream I remember so vividly, my phone was burning hot, and it would not charge, plus no one had a charger that worked. Technology literally haunts my dreams.
As a drag queen, I have had this next dream more times than I can count, and I know other showgirls that have had the exact same type of dream: The show is about to start; the overture starts, or someone starts to introduce me and bring me onto the stage; I look down, and I am not padded, or — even worse — I look into the mirror, and I am not wearing a stitch of make-up.
The panic that I feel in those moments will wake me up from a dead-ass sleep. I usually wake up stressed and stay stressed the whole day. That shit runs deep.
Not all of my dreams are crazy or stressful. Sometimes I get jokes from my dreams. Of course, I am funnier in my dreams, but every once in a while, I will remember a joke or a saying I heard in my dream that actually translates to stage in real life. I have a bit I do onstage about butch lesbians being so tough they can change a tire with just their hands. I mimic picking up the vehicle with one hand and unscrewing the lug nuts with my other hand, removing the tire, putting on the new one, screwing the bolts back on and setting the car down. By todays standards, not really all that funny, but I have been telling that joke for years.
I literally dreamt that entire scenario.
The brain is a weird and crazy thing. I don’t have any idea what my dreams say about me or if there is any real science to back up what our dreams mean. I think it is just a bunch of random bullshit that can sometimes fuck with us. I don’t know if it is just chemicals and neurons firing off in the brain, or if there is some dream troll that hovers over you while you sleep, just doing his best to mess with you.
Who knows? Sleep well critters and sorry about getting you caught in my dreamcatcher.
Remember to always love more, bitch less and be fabulous! XOXO, Cassie Nova
