This morning I woke up around 5am from a dream about the Years Before the War, at least the early period.
I was firmly under the thumb of my parents at the time, but the University I went to was quite sprawling. You could literally spend a decade there and not see everything. The buildings varied widely by time period and architecture; you could anything from the spooky 5.5″ 5.5′ ((I always get ” versus ‘ mixed up!)) high ceilings, 45 watt incandescent bulb-lit corridors of dry, dead books in the Stacks; to the echoing, modern high cathedral-to-research interiors of the flagship of the Engineering campus. And everything inbetween.
It’s perhaps no wonder that the old college grounds can provide so many surreal dreamscapes, decades later.
During the first half or so of my time at University, I was still wrong in the head (which caused a lot of my roommates grief), I just didn’t know it. My dreams set in this time period reset me to that state in the dream…
… but the problem, perhaps, is that I’ll still remember this life, and wander through surreal class re-enactments with this in the back of my head. That’s what turns these otherwise bland dreams into something worse. Not nightmares, just horrible longing for something I only barely remember… and it might not be real after all.
And the other problem, of course, is that the aspect of having to deal with my parents after classes always loomed over my head. I’d call it the Doom of Damocles, but that’s pretty cliché these days.
I woke up at 5am, found myself surrounded by cows, which I knew didn’t happen back then. I hugged Overcow and fell asleep again, back into the same dreams, until goodNite woke me up with birdsong.
Not nightmares. But not really helpful. On the other hand, if it weren’t for the cows, it might have turned into a nightmare. Dream of the Years Before the War inevitably do so if dreamed too long.
Ike and I are headed to work. If I had my head on better I’d have scrambled an egg or something, but as it is, McD will have to do.
Also, I’m heading into an appointment with the bartender. Which is nice.
Spontaneous ∂erivation 
Five and a half inch ceilings? That can’t be right. I think you missed a digit, or a tick for the feets place. Or I’m messed up.
But I was curious if your dreams trended more toward ominous when you’re scheduled to see the bartender?
5.5 foot ceilings :D I fixed it. I always get the ticky marks mixed up.
As for the dream’s ominousness—well, for me, this was almost a happy dream. It would probably rank as “nightmare” on a more objective scale. Thing is, I’ve had much worse dreams, and it’s too depressing to think that almost all (rather than many) of them are nightmares.