Martin Luther King, Jr., as I understand it, was a guy who had vivid dreams. One of his dreams, in fact, which he told lots of people about, had to do with racial harmony. It was one of those wacky dreams that differed drastically from reality, but nevertheless made sense when you talked about it in the waking world.
I have a lot of vivid dreams, too. Like MLK, mine have a lot to do with my struggle. Unlike MLK, they might not be all that coherent in waking. But that doesn't stop me from talking about them.
In the last week I've had a lot of dreams relating to my abdomen. I dreamed that the fuzzy blanket we had in the rented Rhode Island house was my endometrium (the uterine lining). I don't know what it's really like in there, but I don't think it's white and fuzzy. But if it were it would be great. Boy, that was a good blanket.
I also dreamed about how 20 embryos would line up in my belly if I had duodecimuplets. (I made that word up). If I had a really big litter, say. I dreamed they would organize themselves in drooping lines from one side of my waist to another, like a beautiful Athenian belt of stars. Like Orion's, but more bling'ed out. Never mind that my uterus is not at my waist level. With duodecimuplets, one has to branch out.
Finally, I had the strangest dream of all: that I was skinny again. I don't think I have to say much more about the weirdness of this one.
I've also had more existential dreams, like one in which my otherwise tolerant and sweet mom issued me a citation for insolence. Using her authority from her job in the State Department, she took out one of those old tickets they used to tear off a roll and give you at the movies. She wrote "rude" on it, and the time and place of my hearing. I didn't understand how asking "why?!" could be against the law, but she didn't back down. Fortunately, the hearing didn't take place because of some natural disaster that made people have to evacuate the State Department building. The evacuation prevented me from having to defend my constant asking of "why?" and also saved me from some kind of foggy situation in which I had lost one of my shoes and was trying to replace it with a lime green pump.
As I analyze these brilliant snippits of imagination, I am reminded of what Heart offered up to us in the 80s, in the song "These Dreams:"
These dreams go on when I close my eyes.
Every second of the night, I live another life.
These dreams that sleep when it's cold outside,
Every moment I'm awake, the further I'm away.
No, I don't know what that means or how it applies. Since when have dreams made any sense at all? But the melody sticks in my head.