Last night I had a lot of wild dreams. Firefly was going back into production, and I was in the cast: yay! In other news, I was on a covert mission in a weird foreign country or on a different planet. Things went pear-shaped and I was sold into slavery (boo!). One of my partners was played by Adam Baldwin (yay!). It was pretty long, involved, and grim. I wasn't interested in being a sexual plaything for a spoiled potentate, so they roughed me up. A lot. The last segment before I woke up involved being back "home" somewhere in recovery. Not sure how we escaped, but my pard had something to do with it. We were somewhere warm, near a beach, and the last thing I did was stagger out of my bed and into the water where I hovered on the sea floor, picking mussels with a steak knife. Pard came looking for me and was happy to see me out and about. Apparently I'd been catatonic for awhile, so I guess it was a happy ending of sorts.
As powerful dreams often do, this one left a strong emotional impression on me that will last until bedtime tonight, and perhaps a bit into tomorrow. I feel like I survived a major trial and grew in the process, and I also feel extremely well-loved and cared for in the aftermath of the ordeal. I've been pretty happy all day as a result, but also a bit shell-shocked. Yes, my dreams are often very, very real to me. Sometimes I confuse memories of actual events with dreams, and vice-versa. My husband helps me out with a lot of that confusion. So far it hasn't been a big deal, but if I survive into old age, it could get interesting.