If I were going by perception rather than logic, I’d testify that I don’t normally dream at all. I go to sleep, I wake up. That’s all. Sometimes I wake up with vague odd notions, and often with a very strange song in my head. But vivid dreams? Not often. I’ve had chronic insomnia, so maybe I just don’t sleep enough to get that far into the dream state. Maybe I don’t wake up enough to remember, I don’t know. I accept that everybody dreams and I just don’t remember mine, because that’s what I’ve been told so often and there’s no special reason to disbelieve it.
And of course once in a great while I wake up remembering a doozy. While not exactly recurring dreams, a lot of them are quite similar. I assume I have them when I’m feeling anxious about something.
The general set-up: I’m thrust into some situation where I am in charge of a certain unit with scores of sick people, like after some sort of disaster. I have maybe two other nurses and they are drunk, or somehow totally incompetent. I have literally hundreds of patients and only minimal supplies and minimal or incompetent help. There’s yelling, screaming, and blood splashing on the floor. Very similar, but still unlike the typical Saturday night trauma night when I use to do ER down in New Orleans. Most of the time, I can’t remember anything. My wife will shake me away and I’m all sweaty and my heart is racing. I say, “what the heck, why did you do that?” She will say in an agitated voice, “you were wrestling around and yelling for a stat portable x-ray… I assumed you were dreaming about work. I woke you to get you back home again… and your welcome. I want you to know, I don’t allow any working off the clock around here.” She let out a laugh and went back to sleep. I got up and had some late night corn flakes to settle my stomach. I guess, instead of trying for the overtime, I should go ahead and take that day off the next time one comes around.
Hey! I’m even gonna even take a three day weekend!