I was walking down the market near my hostel back in Kazan. Few people, dark evening sky, crisp chilly weather. I knew in the back of my head that my roomie was with me, somewhere in the market. I was looking at the prices all around. I stopped at a shop and asked for the usual vegetables they sell: peppers, garlic, onions, carrots. While he was taking an awfully long time to weigh and stuff, I looked around for my roomie and I actually saw her facing away from me, in her black jacket and cream colored head scarf. And then I looked at myself to notice that i am wearing a sleeveless top...which was so inappropriate for the winter. I stood there wondering what I was doing there....
I have the weirdest dreams. Falling from a cliff, being stabbed, having kids I don't know about. They are not only weird in content. They are sometimes black and white, sometimes mute, at times I am a third person.
Sometimes they are like a movie! And the best part is, I remember every damn thing the next morning.
The weird thing about this dream, apart from my clothes of course, was that everything about the dream was actually perfect. Everything, every lil detail that I recall, was what I experienced in reality almost 2 years ago or before.
My dream was a strong fragment of my memory. This lil act of buying groceries was so perfectly molded in my memory that it popped out of nowhere, to give me a detour, in the form of a dream.
I might be obsessing over my dreams. But I really want them to mean something. I mean I won't have such detailed dreams over nothing, would I?
And ..............zzzzzoooop.
The dream ended. I woke up.
So that was the dream I had last night.
I have the weirdest dreams. Falling from a cliff, being stabbed, having kids I don't know about. They are not only weird in content. They are sometimes black and white, sometimes mute, at times I am a third person.
Sometimes they are like a movie! And the best part is, I remember every damn thing the next morning.
The weird thing about this dream, apart from my clothes of course, was that everything about the dream was actually perfect. Everything, every lil detail that I recall, was what I experienced in reality almost 2 years ago or before.
My dream was a strong fragment of my memory. This lil act of buying groceries was so perfectly molded in my memory that it popped out of nowhere, to give me a detour, in the form of a dream.
I might be obsessing over my dreams. But I really want them to mean something. I mean I won't have such detailed dreams over nothing, would I?
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