I don’t overly concern myself with whether or not we dream in color. Frankly, when I have a disturbing dream, my focus is not on the tint.
Today I completed a poem that describes a (portion of a) dream/nightmare I had last night.
Describing dreams is like attempting to capture smoke with gardening gloves on. You’re constantly convinced that if you could just take off the gloves – victory! Your own dreams haunt you best, because they are yours. If you describe your nightmare as Mickey Mouse chasing you I would assume that you’re Goofy.
Further, I posit that when you dream of people you know, you often dream of a percentage of them. In my case, my wife appeared before me, yet the visceral and emotional effect on my mind was that she was only about 80% my wife – the other 20% being unrecognizable (and scary). Later I recognized others in varying degrees of recognizability [CAUTION: MADE-UP-WORD].
I’m not interested in what dreams “mean” because I have settled into the comfortable belief that dreams are your brains way of shaking five Yahtzee dice in a cup while murmuring, “Thank GOD he’s finally asleep so we can play!” Still, the front end of this dream shook me, and I wanted my poem to shake you too. I hope it does. Mmwa-ha-ha-hah-HA!