She Dreams in Color

There has always been a disconnect for me when people begin talking about dreams. I’ve never really been very well connected to the kinds of dreams we have when we are sleeping. Those dreams come and go like whispers from my mind. They have never been mine to keep, just little borrowed moments. It never bothered me when I was younger, not remembering what my dreams were. Until I began to associate dreaming with creativity.

How could I be the creative person I’ve always yearned to be if I could not remember my dreams? There were all these inspirational moments I felt I could never capture because I couldn’t garner the inspiration that you were supposed to get from dreaming. All the creative people, they always talked about dreams so grand and alluring that I wanted to live inside those dreams. I could never share my own because there was nothing to share. Where could the creativity come from if not from when I was asleep? Could I ever create anything at all?

As I’ve gotten older I sometimes remember fragments of my dreams, but not because they were so fantastical it was impossible for me to forget them. No, I always remember these dreams because they are so very close to my reality that I get them confused. In my mind’s eye I see things I could’ve sworn I already did still left undone. The dreams I have are so far from creative that the show my mind puts on at night would bore you to tears. There are no dragons, superheroes, or even castles. Just me in my everyday.

Perhaps I save my creativity for during my waking hours. I flex my creative muscles while I sit around and day dream during a long car ride. When I make up a story in the shower as I get ready. When I need to escape the real world and just take a break. I’ve always come up with grand stories but they’ve always been grounded in reality. I imagine that’s why I enjoy reading fiction so much, because I’ve never been able to fabricate my own universe. I can work within the confines of one already there but I have never been able to create a world for my own purposes. And that’s ok. The creative force within me was suited for a world already there and I’m ok with that. There’s only so much room for new worlds, anyway. I’d much rather just use ours.

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