I have more conversations with people in my dreams than I do in real life. These conversations span everything from philosophical discussions to the routine mundanities of everyday life to deeply personal discussions.
Often when going about my day, I’ll remember pieces of a conversation and have to think, “Was that a conversation I had with a real person, or was it just one I dreamt about?”
Does that make me sound pathetic?
Because I don’t feel pathetic. I’m almost never lonely and rarely do I feel starved for conversation. My interactions with people in my dreams are often rich, visceral and rewarding.
After my wife died, I remember thinking, “Who will I talk to now about all the little things we used to talk to each other about? The things that nobody cares about except us – because they are part of our lives.”
Surprisingly, it turns out, that I talk to my wife (and other people) about these – but in my dreams.
Occasionally I’ll talk to my mom or a friend about the boring little inconsequential things that are important only to me. But more often than not, I keep them to myself (or blog about them).
Even more surprisingly, that’s more than good enough for me.