Dear My Dreams,
You guys are tricky little buggers to catch hold of and remember. It's always the same routine - I wake up and all I can remember is a vague notion that I've recently been somewhere in my brain involving a wax museum and sunflowers. I try and set traps for you, to jolt myself out of slumber and force you to show your cowardly faces.
Who do you think you are, flitting about my nighttime brain and disappearing in the morning, leaving only a trace of yourselves behind? It's my brain you're inhabiting; I think I have a right to know what bizarre thought-experiments you're conducting in my head. I never consented to be used for these purposes.
Indignant as I am to be victim of your nighttime dances, I am sane enough to realize I'll never be able to catch you and give you the talking-to you deserve.
All I ask is this: treat me nice. I like waking up with the warm fuzzy feeling of a good dream, not the sick to my stomach but I don't know why feeling of an unsettling one.
Or: How do I cultivate you? I so desperately want to be privy to your doings; to wake up for once remembering last night's dream.
I'll be going to sleep shortly. If you love me, send me kittens and rainbows.
Lauren.
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