by Kasey Endsley

Created on: November 29, 2008

I see death dealers.

I see Indiana Jones.

Sometimes, I see myself riding into epic battles with the blessings of an Elf Queen.

Sometimes, I simply dream I am alone.

See, the interesting thing about me is not even my wide range of dreams, all of which are very interesting in themselves. I am defective in the way that I dream every single night, rather than the regular dream cycle most people have. I wake up every morning and remember my dream. And if I don't remember my dream as soon as I wake up, something will happen later in the day to trigger the memory of my dream. I love my dreams, even the horrible ones, even the painful ones. I know it is arrogant of me to say so, but I believe I feel more in my dreams than others do in theirs. When I dream, it feels so abnormally, unbelievably real.

As a child, most of my dreams were of the horror genre. This continued up until a few years ago, when amazing, epic dreams started to filter in, as well. As a child, some of my more frightening dreams were that of a small clown doll coming to life in my bedroom and tormenting me. One time, I dreamed my mother was a skeleton, and another, of my mother being ripped apart by vikings. Yes, vikings.

My dreams have always been very graphic.

My horror dreams these days tend to be more on the gory side. A favorite of my tales amongst my friends is that of the death dealers. In this dream, which I revisited three nights in a row and then never dreamed of again, concerned a group of survivors with me as their leader as they tried to evade murdering demons, called death dealers. Another dream I had that was similar was of a day once a week when demons roamed the earth and took their pick of anyone left alone, leaving their carnage for all to see. In both of these dreams, I had something happen that has never happened in another dream: for a segment of each dream, I saw the life of someone else in the same dream through their eyes. In the death dealers dream, I became a women trying to run away from the dealers, only to be killed by them - in their awkward, demon way - by running her car into a tree. In the second dream, I became a man who found his daughter dead, her ribcage ripped open.

Like I said, graphic dreams.

I have unbelievable good dreams, though! Epic tales come to life! I dream of exploring other planets, or unbelievable places here on earth. I often have dreams of epic battles, Lord of the Rings/Guild Wars/Star Wars style. Yes, all of those three rolled into one. It's quite the amazing experience, especially since my dreams are so vividly real in the first place. Some of my favorite dreams have been ones where I have a wand, as in Harry Potter, and can do magic. Some dreams of mine are frightening, but more cool than anything else, such as my zombie invasion dreams. Something about feeling in power and survivable is exciting to me.

Some of my dreams, however, are useless. Just last night I dreamed I was with a group of friends, wandering towards something in a deserted factory town. I never understood the point of dreams such as these, which I have a lot of.

In short, I love my dreams. Even the horrific ones are something I would miss if they disappeared.

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