Last night I had the most fantastic dream.
I was alone in a bay, a land with a small island just off the coast of a lush green tropical place.
I swam around the bay and periodically the largest waves I can imagine would wash around and pull me with them, and it was incredibly fun.
It was all fun and games until the tallest wave yet picked me up and tossed me into a shallow part of the bay, with rocks sticking out everywhere. Thankfully some water rushed back into the area while I was in midair, so I broke my fall somewhat.
It didn’t hurt, but a couple minutes later I noticed something sticking out of my foot. I swam back to the island and sat on the grassy cliff edge, and pulled a full half-inch slice of rock out of the bottom of my right foot. It bled a little but still didn’t hurt.
So I kept swimming, and I swam until I woke up. And when I woke up, it was about half an hour before my alarm was supposed to go off, except I’d forgotten to set it correctly the night before. So I set it, went back to bed, and woke up at the right time and everything.
It’s only very recently that I’ve started remembering my dreams at all—minus a couple from when I was a little kid, the only things I’ve remembered from my dreams in years have been feelings, not events. Like “that dream was weird” or “gosh that was scary” or something.
I like nice dreams.