I have never been able to remember my dreams.
Ever since I was really young, I have told people that I just don't dream. Of course, that's a complete lie, but it sounded cooler than telling people that I can never remember them. I can remember a handful of dreams over the past two decades, one involving Hulk Hogan on a motorcycle coming to my house when I was three or four. Nothing I say makes sense.
Over the weekend, I had a dream that I remember still, which may not seem like a big deal, but it is to me.
In this dream, I died. I don't know how I died, and I don't know why I died. All I know is that I died, and I was reincarnated into myself at age 12. I don't understand it at all, but dreams that are understandable aren't fun to look back on.
I remember talking to everyone that I was around in my dream, and telling them how I had passed away, but it was really me inside this body. I was scrambling to get to a pen and piece of paper to write down everything that I could remember from my past, because I didn't want to lose it. I wanted to hang onto every last thing from my past life that I could before my new life kicked in and gave me a clean slate.
The two things I remember writing down: The Gaslight Anthem's "Great Expectations" and the name of the love of my life. I think her name was Amanda. I hate to disappoint any Amandas, but I don't think I've ever fallen in love with any of you. Maybe it's foreshadowing. See you in the future, Amanda.
I just remember being so afraid that I would forget everything from my past in this new life I was given, as if the future wouldn't ever compare. I think that's how I have been feeling for the past few years, which is why I kept trying to hang onto every old friend I had. It's silly to pretend like the people I've met over the past year or two can't compare to friends of the past. I'm just a sucker for nostalgia.