I had another weird dream last night. That seems to happen whenever I get plenty of sleep.
This one had many strange components, and even if I could fully remember how they connected, it would take too long to explain. For example, in part of the dream, my dead father was resting in a piece … of cake. We’d laid him down in a birthday cake instead of a grave, and we were dismayed that the frosting had melted off his head. (In reality he was cremated then buried by my brother and niece.)
In another part of the dream, I was teaching a special needs child math with dandelion heads and dimes. And I was in Marching Band again, trying to come up with perfect costumes for a show. Somehow this involved cutting each other’s hair, dying it blue, and sewing on new wigs?
But my favorite bit, or the part that keeps popping up in my waking thoughts today, was woven throughout: I dreamt athletes and others were getting eye implants that let them see a second or so into the future.
So I got some, of course. They looked like staples. Ouch. But they refracted the edges of impending changes like a kaleidoscope of possibilities. The more possibilities, the more dramatic the fractal-like edges became. And the faster you were able to process the “fringes” the more detail you could see. At first it was harder to see this way. It was a bit like looking at a 3D movie without the special glasses. In sports, for example, the faster someone was moving, the more future possibilities their next second held, and the blurrier that person became. But our brains got better at stitching the info together and pulling it into potential outcomes.
That’d be pretty cool in real life, minus the stapling process.
Whenever I share these sorts of dreams, someone always asks if they can have a little of what I had before bed. I realized this morning that in fact, while I usually take a daily SSRI, yesterday I’d somehow forgotten. That’s just my night-time brain without drugs, if I get enough sleep.