My suspension of disbelief is terrible.
I blame it on horror films.
My mom loves horror movies, so I was exposed to them at a young age. To spare me from going insane, my mom went through great pains to explain that they were only a movie, people liked them because they either liked being scared or saw them (and myriad other reasons), it would be all over the news if it happened in real life and it was all special effects.
I stopped watching them because I picked up on each one ending with the opportunity for a sequel, and I wanted something with a definitive end.
This inability to fully enjoy something fantastic has bled into my subconscious.
If I dream about being able to fly, I say, “Wait a minute. This is impossible!” and I wake up. A talking animal or inanimate object? Ice cream grows on trees? Something that traditionally is a nightmare? A little voice announces that it isn’t real and wakes me up. Back in college because I didn’t actually pass a class or something? Completely rejected and sent to the waking world.
Unless I have a lucid dream and play around in the space or a dream is framed in being a film, I dream about going to the grocery store, having conversations with friends, driving somewhere, going to work, so on and so forth. It’s a little bothersome because I’m afraid that I’ll reach a point in my life when I’m not certain whether something actually happened. I sometimes remind myself that a married couple I once worked with being in a ’70s folk rock band and this information not coming out until another former coworker who also is a DJ noticed them on an album cover when he was digging in the crates did not happen.
The worst was when I was in high school. I went to bed on a Monday night and dreamed about getting up on Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. The dream included getting ready, riding the bus, going to class, going home doing homework and going to bed. When my alarm went off and morning news program mentioned it was Tuesday, I had to explain to the rest of the house why I was shouting, “TUESDAY? TODAY IS TUESDAY?”
This even comes into play when I have routine dreams with deceased people.
Except for one exception.
Last night, I dreamed of going home. I took my niece and one of my nephews on a college tour. Their mother went with us.
My brain doesn’t cancel dreams with Theresa in them. It definitely has tried, though.
I’ve had the realization that a dream was impossible because my sister is dead. It didn’t end the dream.
I don’t even get the reminder anymore.
In a way, they make me appreciate the plausible slice of life dreams. I like having the occasional conjuring of doing the normal, boring things with my sister I never got the chance to do.
Thank you for at least let me have this, brain.