There are few worse experiences in life than waking up right in the middle of an awesome dream.
I know that sounds like an exaggeration, but think about it. Throughout our lives, people encourage us to “dream big,” or to “dream the impossible.” Well, we do that. In our dreams. I’m not going to date Kate Upton in real life. In my dreams, I might.
And the best part is that when we are dreaming it, it feels real to us. I know that sounds obvious, but it needs to be reinforced. While we are fast asleep in our beds, and deeply immersed in what I like to call “Dream World,” our dream selves have absolutely no concept of reality. It’s the world we are currently in, so why would we question it?
While dreaming, if we suddenly find ourselves dating a supermodel, we don’t take a step back and say, “Wait a minute — a supermodel would never date me. This can’t be real.” In the dream, it’s happening, so of course it’s real. We don’t know any different.
And that’s why when we wake up, and the real world dawns upon us, it’s extremely deflating. Tack on the realization that we probably have to leave bed and go to work in a very short while, and it’s basically just a perfect storm of horror. In a matter of moments, you just went from holding hands with Kate Upton to waking up in your parents’ house five minutes before your alarm goes off.
Tell me that’s not incredibly depressing. And on that note, am I only person who never gets past first base in my dreams? I really hope my ineptitude is not an individual problem. I face enough of that in reality as it is.
But anyway, this entire diatribe of how shitty it is to wake up from an awesome dream only adds to the awesomeness of the next part of this story.
A few days ago, I was having a dream that I was at a party that a friend of mine was throwing. And this wasn’t just some normal-Friday-night-nine-people-show-up-in-a-cramped-apartment-with-an-uneven-guy-to-girl ratio-type party.
This was an outdoor, middle of the summer, backyard party of the year-type shindig. Beautiful weather, flowing beer, and everyone was there. And I mean everyone. Like every single friend I’ve ever had in my life was at this party, chilling and having a good time, and they were all happy to see me.
Basically, it was the party from Can’t Hardly Wait, except better.
All I remember was sitting there, seeing everybody I know, and enjoying life. I had no care in the world but to live in the moment, at that party.
And then I woke up.
Now, in the seconds after waking up, I knew I was upset about something. I was nostalgic about a place I had just left, but couldn’t recall why. Then I remembered the party. And the realization that it was never real dawned upon me, and there was nothing but darkness. And I mean that in a metaphorical sense, and not because it was the middle of the night.
But as it was still dark out, I took some solace in knowing I had plenty of time left to sleep before work, and so I fell back into a slumber.
And guess what happened?
I was back at the party. Nothing was different. The friends were still there, the beer was back in my hand, and it was literally like I just took a five-minute leave to go the bathroom. But instead of going to the bathroom, I returned to consciousness and back. This was some Michael J. Fox Back to the Future type shit. But I didn’t question it. I was back where I belonged.
Honestly, whatever happened after that I really don’t remember. Maybe I woke up again. Maybe my dream evolved into something else. It doesn’t matter — just the fact that I did the impossible and reentered my awesome dream was enough to make me extremely happy.
I think the best part was that I consciously remembered waking up and being sad that the dream was over. I imagine it’s not that uncommon to wake up momentarily in a half dreaming-half awake state, only to return to the dream you were just having. But there’s no consciousness there. There’s no alert train of thought.
So for me to wake up, and actively acknowledge that the dream was just a dream, and still go back into it — I feel like there was some type of glitch in the Matrix or something.
Maybe I wasn’t asleep, and perhaps I slipped into an alternate dimension, where a separate version of myself was currently attending an all-night rager?
Whatever happened, it was sensational.
As depressingly awful as it is to wake up from an awesome dream, it’s even more magnificent to return to an awesome dream.
I can vouch for it.