Some people ask: Do you dream in color or black and white? I don't quite get that question, because it suggests you're sitting there watching your dream, like you're watching a movie. But when I dream, I'm not watching the movie, I'm in the movie.
But honestly, most of the time I do not have very vivid dreams, and I usually don't even remember them. Or if I do, I think about them briefly when I wake up -- but they are forgotten by the time I sit down for breakfast.
But recently -- for the past week or ten days -- I've been having very dramatic, action-packed dreams. So right away, what's that all about?
So, last night . . .
I was in a park, walking down a grassy hill toward the parking lot. My three kids were running ahead of me. (They were my three kids in the dream, but they weren't my real-life kids -- I only have two real-life kids.) Then they were running out across a frozen pond, and I called to them to wait up for me. "And get off that pond -- you don't know if it's frozen all the way!"
I ran down to the pond and climbed up on a big rock, with a wooden walkway going up the side, trying to get around the shoreline. Suddenly I saw a car across the pond, and it turned and came screaming across the ice, right toward me. It crashed into the wooden scaffolding below me, then turned around and sped back across the ice, kicking up the ice behind it, leaving a skid-mark trail of black water.
Then . . . I was shopping in New York City, along Fifth Avenue. I went into one store and looked around. I walked back out onto the street. I was killing time, waiting for someone (my wife?) who was also shopping. I continued uptown a little way, ducked into another store, then I bought something, and I remember I was shuffling my coat and my bag and a couple of other things -- an umbrella maybe? Finally, I left the store and walked home to the Upper West Side. I got inside my apartment and took off my coat, and felt my front right pocket. My wallet was missing!
And I woke up. I was sure my wallet was missing. I was so sure that I started to get out of bed to go find my wallet. But then, I remembered placing it on the desk in my office downstairs when I got home last night. I wasn't really missing my wallet, I finally realized, it was a dream. And so I went back to sleep, although it took me quite a while to drop off again . . .
And now I am sitting at a table in a coffee shop -- or maybe it's a bar -- again in Manhattan, but downtown in Greenwich Village or someplace like that. It is summertime, and people are sitting at tables on the sidewalk. I am expecting someone.
I gaze out the window, and I see Bob Hope at one of the tables, and he's talking to some people and laughing and obviously regaling them with a funny story. Then Al Sharpton walks in and sits down at my table. We know each other (not in real life, but in the dream). He wants my advice on the political campaign he's about to launch. "Oh, so what are you running for?" I ask. "The Los Angeles City Council?"
I am a little taken aback, because I'm not a political consultant. I tell him, "Well, I know public relations (which I do not in real life), but politics is not my specialty. But let's talk this out and see if we can come up with some ideas."
B is coming into the bedroom, heading for the shower. She usually gets up before me, around 6:30 or 7 a.m. I usually get out of bed between 7 and 7:30 a.m.. "What time is it?" I ask.
"It's quarter to nine," she replies, and ducks into the bathroom.
So I get out of bed. I haven't slept this late in years, and I started to wonder: Am I going crazy?