Photo Courtesy of BigThings.ca
Photo Courtesy of BigThings.ca

I used to always say that I hated talking and hearing about others’ or my own dreams. And I can honestly say now that I can’t figure out why I ever felt that way.

Dreams are a significant part of my life, considering that I dream every night (once upon a time, I was shocked to learn that not everyone does – it was inconceivable to a nightly dreamer like myself). This might be weird, but I can track my past through reoccurring dreams (and I’m talking dreams here, not aspirations… you know, the fucked up stuff that happens in your head when you sleep at night).

I have one reoccuring dream that I can date back to when my biological parents (I know this is a weird phrasing… I am not adopted, it’s just that I consider my stepparents my parents as well, and I’m not sure how to make the distinction) were still together… and I was four when they split up.

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