In My Dreams

My dreams are hardly coherent. They merge and bend from one scene to the next without making any sense.
In some of my dreams I’m still in the Army. I have to go to formation but I can’t find my uniform. Or I’m missing gear before a deployment. I’m just never ready.

In some of my dreams I can fly. Not like a bird or like Superman. I just start floating and realize gravity doesn’t apply to me. I learn to control it. I ascend and descend, but I’m careful not to go too high for fear of losing my power as soon as I found it. I learn to travel, but my pace is never faster than I can run. I laugh because it makes me as happy as if it were real.

In some of my dreams I’m moving into a small house with hidden rooms that are huge and ornately furnished. It feels like I’m the first one discovering them.

I find myself remembering my dreams more the older I get. I don’t care what they mean. Somehow my mind is able to create a strange geography that’s entirely different from the world I know. Somehow it’s comforting.