before my injury, i, REGULARLY had very bizarre, vivid dreams that i could remember with some detail… some of them i STILL remember.

since my injury, i haven’t had more than a handful of dreams that i could remember, and those have been very bland and boring…

except for the past month or so.

in the past month, i have had, probably, ten to twelve incredibly bizarre, vivid dreams, that were QUITE disturbing. the one i had last night was so disturbing that i am still emotionally affected by it, at 18:30 the next day.

i was playing my tuba (micro-tuba, so it was relatively recent) somewhere, with other people who i knew only vaguely (and, now, i can’t place any of them, although they were a fairly standard band, and we were playing familiar tunes). the performance took place in someone’s incredibly posh, upper-crust living room, and they had a room off to the side where we could put our cases and stuff, but it was also fairly evident, from the room on the side, that the “posh, upper-crust” living room could, possibly, be an attempt to cover up a SERIOUS hoarder, or possibly several hoarders: random stuff in bags and boxes, and bundles of paper stacked against the walls, and general disarray and confusion, except for the “posh, upper-crust” trappings of the living room. after we played, i was putting away my instrument, and i had a couple of small boxes of stuff that wasn’t related to the tuba, but were, OBVIOUSLY mine (because they had been inside my tuba case when i was playing), that had apparently gone missing, and when i told our host this, they (not exactly sure who, much less male or female) sent me on, essentially, a wild goose chase through the house, which got progressively more chaotic and full of stuff, the further i got from the living room. at one point, the only way to go was forward, through a hole in the floor, down a ladder, three floors, except that after the first floor, the hole was suddenly occupied by two, then three, then four ladders, which appeared at random levels, and made climbing down progressively more difficult… and then, when i got to the bottom, i met an old lady who told me that what i was looking for was back the way i came, but now the way was, essentially, blocked by ladders of various sizes — i distinctly remember one of the ladders was like the one that clarice has in the bottom of her coop. there was a large room that was full of electric guitars, some of which had been taken apart, and all of them looked like they hadn’t been touched, much less played, in at least 10 years. eventually i got lost in the house, and was unable to find my way back to the living room, which only added to my anxiety, because my tuba was there, and i didn’t want to leave without it, but it seemed like i had been trapped in the maze of a house for hours.

the house was really interesting, and REALLY full of very interesting (and expensive) stuff, but because of the fact that it was so chaotic and disorganised, and because of the fact that i was CLEARLY getting further and further away from my tuba and the way out of the house, it was really difficult to be that impressed with what i saw.

it was intense, and aggravating enough that i woke up, and when i went back to sleep, i went back to the same dream, which is something that has only happened when i am sick, even before my injury.