#bloganuary: These Dreams

Today’ss prompt, from the International Sales Office in Lagos, Nigeria: Write about a dream you remember.

My dreams really don’t make a whole lot of sense. Since the stroke, they’re very vivid and I don’t remember them well. About the best I can do is this:

My dreams lately have taken place in a cubicle farm, where I know everyone even though I’ve met few of them, if anyone. Outside the cubicle farm is a store of some kind, maybe a grocery store or a drug store, maybe even a convenience store where I buy Dr Pepper and Benson & Hedges Menthol cigarettes (even though I quit smoking years ago, and don’t remember smoking Benson & Hedges Menthols). Occasionally I’m asked to join a meeting, in an office with a broken toilet in the corner. If I have to go to the bathroom at some point, the urinals are these amazing contraptions that can do many things, although I just relieve myself in them. There are signs on the wall that explain the functioning of the urinals, which I don’t bother reading because I don’t need any other function.

In other words, just a typical day in my head.

6 thoughts on “#bloganuary: These Dreams

  1. My dreams are bat sh&^( crazy. My friends all know about my crazy nut dreams. In fact, when I took a class on Altered States of Consciousness, the prof. told us to write down our dreams. I started to get very vivid dreams and could change my dream and I knew I was dreaming. It reached a point where i was so tired and full of angst. My friend took me to the prof who told me to stop writing them down and then mentioned I would be a great test subject. Last week I had a lengthy dream where I ended up in water and this beastly thing with no teeth but a huge mouth shaped like a dolphin’s mouth wanted to eat me. I didn’t like it so it morphed into a pink dolphin. I still didn’t like it so it morphed into a dog with puppies in which I picked up a puppy which morphed into kittens. OK…typical. I won’t get into Godzilla and King Kong going at it..um..I mean trying to kill one another while I tried to avoid them.


    1. Something about the way my brain rewired itself after the strokemade them even crazier than they had been, but then, I always said that as crazy as I am when I’m awake, I end up with dreams about waxing the floor…

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