I love my dreams. They are weird, vivid, and usually have a storyline that runs through them.
Sam says her dreams are never as coherent as mine. When I was in middle school I used to try and tell myself what I wanted to dream about as I was falling asleep. I do recall it worked sometimes. Just a random experiment.
So last night, I had this dream that I was an astronaut on the first mission to the moon. Not NASA – Neil Armstrong mission to the moon, but something different. We were in a big, huge, massive auditorium. Pack with people, press and all the equipment for the mission to the moon. We were launching from right there on stage.
Everything in the dream was modern too. This wasn’t a 1960’s dream, it was modern day.
In the auditorium the lights were down. The rest of the crew and I were laughing and talking with all the fans and press about how great this was. There were four of us going on this mission. We were treating it lightly even though everyone kept saying how historic it was. As lift off was closing in, we all went our separate ways to get prepared. I kept looking for my spacesuit and couldn’t find it. The rest of the crew were all dressed up in their clear bubble headed spacesuits and ready for lift off. I was the only one not prepared.
I ran around the dressing room searching for my spacesuit. I tore clothes off racks, ripped through drawers that were way to small to fit the suit, and was screaming at the top of my lungs. Someone told me it could be in the coat rack and I ran to the back of the auditorium, a spot light following me the whole way, but my suit wasn’t there. I eventually accepted that the mission had to go one without me. That everyone else was ready, I was preventing launch and had to just give up, which I did.
I didn’t watch the launch. I went back to my dressing room and collapsed on the bed in there arms splayed out to my sides exhausted. All I was saying was “Someone hide it” while really thinking I just wasn’t ready for it. Didn’t prepare for launch the right way. Everyone else was ready way before me and I took it too lightly. That’s why I wasn’t on the launch. It was my fault.
Someone came in to fight me. Really. This was part of my dream. Someone came in the dressing room wanting to fight me. One of the launch crew on the ground said “You really don’t want to fight with him right now. He’s pretty mad,” and I was. I was mad and angry and blaming myself for not being on the something as historic as the first mission to the moon.
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And that’s how I woke up. Not sure how, why, or where this dream came from but there it is. A solid tale of randomness and fiction that my brain created to entertain me last night.