I've read few studies on dreams, but as remarkable as the studies can seem, I like a little mystery. I don't like to always over analyze what I'm dreaming, or believe there could be something deeper there. Sometimes, it's just a dream.
I've always had strange dreams--most of the time full of a lot of action and dialogue. Apparently I'm not the only one in my family who has such an active imagination while unconscious. I never hear about his dreams anymore, but I remember being young and hearing my brother crying or laughing in his sleep. He always seemed to have very active dreams. I had symptoms similar to insomnia growing up; I was up late enough to hear his half of the dreams before I dropped into my own.
Once, before my brother was even old enough for kindergarten, I remember hearing shouting from his bedroom. I got out of bed--terrified for the little guy--and rushed in. He was asleep, but very noisy. I didn't know how to handle a kid in a nightmare. I didn't even know how to handle myself in a nightmare back then. We were both just young and trapped in our own dreams. I found Mamma and Daddy a couple of rooms over and told them Heath was having a nightmare, and I didn't know what to do. They both gave me sympathetic smiles and crept into his room with me--my mother and I stayed at the bedroom door while my father sat on the edge of my brother's bed.
"Hey, buddy," Daddy said softly. Heath sat right up. His eyes were wide open, but he was completely asleep, still trapped. "Daddy!" he shouted.
"Shhh," my dad cooed. "What is it? What's wrong?"
"The soldiers! They're everywhere! They keep shooting at me and I'm out of ammo! I don't know what to do!" He looked as if he could cry.
"Hey, hey, don't worry!" Daddy winked at Mamma and me. "You see that bush over there?"
"I'm behind it! Do you see me?"
"Shhh! Don't give me away!"
"I've got plenty of ammo in my sniper rifle. I'm gonna' get 'em for you."
"Okay! Please Daddy, they're gonna' kill me..."
"No, they aren't! I won't let anybody hurt you." Daddy made a few small noises--the minimal noise you'd hear in movies or games with sniper rifles that had silencers on them. That's the small bit of knowledge I could identify with when it came to sniping. I knew that sound, and so did Heath--he smiled.
"I got him! Did you see it?!" Daddy said.
"Yeah! Get the other one! By the bunker!" Heath said.
"Alright!" Another noise. "I got him!" Another noise. "Look! They're all gone. They won't hurt you."
Heath's eyes slowly shut again and he melted back into the form in his bed. Daddy pulled the covers over his shoulder. "Thank you, Daddy."
"You're welcome, baby boy."
My brother was back in dream land, but thanks to the coolest warrior we both know, he was dreaming of victory at last.