Life As a Dreamer

If I were filthy rich, I would employ a carefully selected therapist to be sitting by my bedside every single morning so that I could have a counseling session the moment I woke up.

She (it would have to be a girl because I feel like a male psychologist letting himself into my apartment every morning for our sessions would be breaking all kinds of counseling rules) would have a special chair in my room.

Her chair would be really homey and comfortable, situated right by my bed, because who knows what time I will sleep in until on the weekends and I want her to be able to relax while I sleep. (This is my hypothetical therapy scenario  and I am super rich so ‘time is money’ means nothing to me).

I am usually pretty unpleasant upon waking, so I would pay her to bring me coffee, as well.

After the caffeine began to soak into my veins and when I am able to connect strings of words together to form sentences, she and I would begin a therapy session about my dreams the night before.

I have always had the most vivid, intense dreams as I sleep.

I once was so fed up with my crazy dreams, I threatened to create a twitter account solely devoted to documenting my dreams: @jennasdreams *not an actual account and I am also not sure who I was threatening

In my highly scientific and thoroughly researched opinion (aka I have announced this a few times in front of various people and no one has corrected me), I have deducted that there is a strong link between a high anxiety brain and highly emotional, clear dreams.

Along with an anxious and emotional brain, I also have a scarily good memory, which allows me to recall a ridiculous amount of detail in both dream life and real life.

I actually freak my friends out on a regular basis with the minute details I am able to remember about them. My best friend Brit has like 7 aunts and uncles and about a month after meeting her,  I was able to name them all. I am actually surprised we are still friends.

That combination of memory, emotion and anxiety makes for some very emotional mornings as I wake up and need to process my dreams. Hence, the therapist.

I often talk about donating my brain to science, because the intensity of the emotions I am able to feel while dreaming cannot be normal.

In real life, I am highly emotional and anxious, so I would appreciate if Dream Jenna could just be this carefree, chill, relaxed human. But no, I don’t even get a vacation from this brain in my dreams.

People I haven’t seen in years come back to me in dreams so vividly that I can remember the way they walk.

Relationships that I have let go and moved past visit me in dreams so that when I wake up in the morning, it feels as if I have to let them go again. That sounds really romantic but it’s actually rather exhausting. Like going through a breakup over and over again.

Living with me is going to be exhausting, because whoever I marry is going to need to dedicate about 20 minutes each morning to hearing about my dreams and how I am feeling about my dreams. Unless he is going to pay for the bedside therapist, but I have doubts about that.

There are a few schools of thoughts about what dreams really are.

Some say they are just random firings of synapses and neurons or something like that. Honestly I am too lazy to look it up, but the point of it is that dreams are totally random with no meaning.

Others say that dreams are our subconscious trying to work through things.

I think it’s a little bit of both.

Anyways, I am a dreamer. I always have been.

My mind never stops running and moving and spinning and jumping, even when I’m asleep.

I’m tired.

But the dreams when I am asleep are so different than the dreams I have while I am awake.

My dreams and ambitions for my life have always been pretty safe.

I have always been a goal-setter, but my goals were never crazy or impractical.

I never genuinely thought I could be famous, though I loved to sing and serenade my family on the saxophone, I knew there were people way more talented than I.

I was good at sports, but I knew the limitations of my talents and never thought I would pitch at a big school. Until I threw out my arm, I had my sights set on playing for a small, private school.

My goals were realistic and obtainable. I am a very, very practical person.

Some of the journals I have filled up over the past 5 years. Full of safe dreams.

But lately, I’m turning into a big dreamer.

I am for the first time, starting to set some goals that are a little wild. That are maybe a little bit impractical. Maybe even unrealistic.

This year, I came alive again. I had to start over and set new goals and ambitions for my life, and I have to say, I’m dreaming big.

I am scared to set big goals or say my big dreams out loud, because what if I fail?

What if I never become the writer or speaker that I dream of being?

What if no one reads the words I have to say?

Or worse, what if people read them, and don’t like them?

What if I am not good enough?

I have always been a safe dreamer. It was too risky to set a goal that could be out of my reach.

But this dreamer is growing out of her old dreams and needs to stretch herself further and trust in a plan bigger than her own.

Dream with me this year. I want to be done with ordinary. Here is my commitment to dreaming big in 2016. When I figure out exactly what those dreams look like, I can’t wait to share them.

And if I accomplish them, let’s celebrate together.

And if I don’t, we can cry and drink coffee.

Bring on the extraordinary.

Count your blessings,






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