Dreams are interesting. And strange.
A few nights ago, I dreamt of someone whom I haven’t spoken to in nearly 10 years. The dream was vivid. We were on the phone. I haven’t thought of this person in a while. We were mostly Internet friends who Facebook chatted aggressively in 2012 while ignoring each other in real life. Startled by the vividness, I brought the dream up to le beau.
Why don’t you reach out? le beau asked.
Where? I don’t have Facebook, I’m not on Instagram, and I’m not going to message them on LinkedIn, I said.
Maybe you could say hi on Instagram?
I waved it off.
This evening, though, I was on Snapchat, and who do I see? This person. I didn’t even know they had a Snapchat. I have never seen them post on Snapchat. But I waved it off again. Then I shared a snap, of our thrift finds, and saw that one person had viewed it – this particular person.
The synchronicities felt uncanny, so I said hello. I’m not really sure what the purpose of this conversation is, or if there even is one. We weren’t particularly close, and there were no scores to settle. But I still felt compelled to reach out.
This isn’t the first time that a dream’s aligned with some aspect of waking life. Before jury duty, I had a vivid dream of a friend who had passed away. Several months ago, he had been murdered in the city, shot at nighttime, and the murderer was never caught. In the dream, which felt very real, I was surprised to see him. I thought you were-? and he shrugged. I chalked the dream up to driving nerves – about going into the city. The next day, at jury duty, the prosecutor listed out the details of the case. The defendant, who sat in front of us, had been accused of murder. Shot someone dead. When I recalled the dream, and saw the specific similarity between the crime and the friend, I felt spooked.
Sometimes the alignment with waking life is incomprehensible. Insignificant. One recent incident involved dreaming about details of a show before it had been released. In early December, I was writing in a dream journal. One of the dreams – again, very vivid – featured me floating around a Korean high school while being chased. The building was white, box-like: I crawled from one room to another, soaring through windows. The next morning, I wrote, that was weird, listed down details, and forgot about it.
A month or two later, I started a zombie show on Netflix. All of Us Are Dead. It featured a group of Korean high schoolers being chased around by the undead, in a similarly white school building. They climbed from window to window. Halfway through the episodes, I realized why the building structure was familiar. I recognized the building – and plot, ha – from the dream in early December. Had I seen a trailer? All of Us Are Dead was released on January 28th. The trailer was released on the 13th. When I brought up the parallels, le beau didn’t believe me, until I read the dream journal entry out loud.
For every 100 pointless dreams, there are often 1 or 2 that are freakishly vivid, freakishly bizarre, and freakishly close-to-reality, even if I don’t realize it until much later. Usually, I dismiss the dream until similarities in reality emerge. Maybe it’s statistical probability. Maybe it’s the law of large numbers. Or maybe it’s just some highly specific, weird shit that I can never decipher, but becomes harder to deny, like the repeating numbers, which eventually stopped. (Never figured out the point of those, but at least I documented it to feel less insane.) Although not every synchronicity has, at face value, obvious meaning, it makes me want to trust the gut and impulses and weird dreams – to surrender to the peculiar fluid of the sleeping mind.