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I've often thought of keeping a dream journal because it's so hard to remember dreams if you don't immediately write them down or tell someone about them after you wake up. So I'm going to try to put down some more interesting ones. I'm putting these here because oftentimes I want to illustrate them but it is usually too difficult for me. My Stonefall painting is one of the few I managed to accomplish. Maybe if I write them down it'll be easier for me to pick one out to attempt.

Disclaimer: I know my dreams do not reflect much on my circumstances in life most of the time. I think of them as my brain's playground. You can try to interpret them as having some meaning but I will disagree with you. :)

The oddest one in recent memory happened a month or two ago. I was in a generic, European village with stone paved roads and stone walls comprising most of the infrastructure. Creeping ivy covered many vertical surfaces and small bits of the regional flora grew out of every crevice it could find. Things weren't very updated but it was in a modern time. I decided I wanted to befriend Hitler, who happened to live in one of these quaint little tightly packed cottages. I went through the front gate and knocked on the door but he was not home. So I opened the driver's side door of the four door sedan sitting in his driveway and promptly curled up like a cat in the seat, which was oddly covered in green felt like a pool table top. Then Hitler came home and he sat in the back seat of the car and I chatted with him. Something about keeping the friendship secret and how you can't let people you know people these days. He agreed.

A few weeks ago I was in a very sterile building. I did not know who I was, where I was, or what the date was. The layout reminded me of an airport terminal with one wall being comprised entirely of windows which were dark, I suppose, because it was night. There was no one and nothing around. Just plain white walls, white ceiling, plain fluorescent lighting, and nothing on the dark grey floors. I went down a stairway and it led into a much more cramped hallway. There were many doorless openings into rooms on either side and I went into one. I heard one set of footsteps outside in the hallway. For some reason it made me feel afraid and want to hide but there was nowhere to go so I stood and watched the passageway. A man in a lab coat came in and said "There you are!" He then grabbed my head with one hand and proceeded to cut my head off with some small knife (scalpel?) with the other. I reacted accordingly but halfway through I realized it didn't hurt much other than the skin. I shouldn't have still been able to vocalize or even be alive for that matter. I concluded that I was some kind of sentient android.

More recently, two nights ago in fact, I had a dream I was in my old house in southern California and it was at night. I was trying to get to sleep in the dream. This mundane and seemingly impossible task happens more often than I'd like. Then, I heard a rustling through the window in the sage bushes outside. It was my mom and she was trying to set fire to the house. I stuck my head out the window and told her to go away because my brother and I were still in the house. She seemed surprised but then agreed it was a bad idea and left. I tried to get back to sleep. Then I heard her again and began to get very paranoid. The rest of the dream I was guarding the house against my pyromaniac mom.

Last night was something about being stuck in 4 feet of snow which subsequently melted very quickly, revealing that the entire front yard was covered in glistening green, healthy, two foot tall grass. I felt despondent because it needed to be mowed desperately but just looking at the yard made me feel weary and I knew I was alone. I looked to my right and the beach was a hundred yards away. It was covered with an infinitely tall wall of ominously thick dark greyish fog and its equally infinitely long shore spread either way perpendicularly to the house . The front yard was meager in dimensions and surrounded by a white picket fence which seemed to trap the ridiculously overgrown grass. On the other side of the fence was sand. An endless, bright, white plane of sand. I decided to ignore the lawn and go inside my solitary colonial styled two story house instead.