I have weird dreams. Like I'm kind of aware that I'm asleep, but kind of not. And I can't really control them like some people apparently can. So I'm just kind of...there. And stuff happens.

Like this one recurring dream where I'm in a playground, and there are a bunch of clawed things (usually cats or velociraptors). And they chase me and try to claw me to death, and I run away but I can never get past those wood border things they have for the wood chips or sand or whatever. And whenever the cats (or velociraptors) start clawing me to death, it doesn't hurt. It's just that dream logic when you stand there like, "Oh, look, I'm being sliced into pieces by a bunch of hungry dinosaurs. This is bad." That's a fun dream.

Another recurring dream is this one where everything is perfectly normal, but it's completely silent. It's like being under water, there's no sound at all. I don't know why that's so unbelievably creepy to me, but it is. SO creepy.

I have other recurring dreams too, like the escalator one and the trapped underwater one and of course there's the infamous falling one, but those all suck. I do have nice dreams too. Like there was one where I had a black cat and I could walk on clouds. Oh, and there was this one with a bunch of twisty slides installed in the bookstore and instead of taking the stairs, everyone just slid everywhere. There was one where I killed Medusa, that was cool. And when I was really little, I had a dream that it was midnight and me and my mom where jumping on the bed, and there was a knock on the door, and outside where these giant birds, and they took us places.

The worst nightmare I've ever had was when I was nine. At first it had some random stuff that had to do with Russian spies? (I honestly don't know why, but there you go.) And then I had to go down this hallway to tell the president something I had found out. And I was sneaking down the hallway when this hand grabbed my wrist. And it was like a kid's hand. So I turned around, and it was just this severed arm. And I tried to scream and I couldn't, and then I woke up, yada yada yada. But for some reason, that freaked nine year old me out really badly.

I could go on and on, but I've just realized that when the prompt said dreams, it probably meant like your hopes and dreams, not your actual, literal dreams. Whoops. In which case, standard dreams. Go to college, write a best selling novel, become rich and donate to charity, spend my life reading and making art, die at an old age and discover that in heaven everyone is a unicorn, be a unicorn forever and always. You know, the typical American Dream.