Rings, Godzilla and one crazy dreamscape

Reading dream sequences in books is eye-roll-inducing. With few exceptions (in my mind, anyway), including a character’s “dream” seems to be a thinly-veiled way of dumping information on how they’re really “feeling” without actually spelling out how they feel. We all subscribe to the “show, don’t tell” policy, and I guess some writers think that counts. Except it totally doesn’t.

I now recognize the irony of writing a blog post about a recent dream I had, then, but I’m mercurial. It’s just how I roll.

So. My dream. It’s nighttime and I’m running through my grandparents’ house, the one where I spent countless summers growing up. In my dreams, I’m always in or around Grandma and Grandpa’s house; it’s a safe zone, if you will. My happy place. Whenever something crazy is going on, returning to the scene of my youth is a balm for the soul. So it makes sense that Dream Megan would run there at the first sign of the apocalypse.

There’s always some crazy natural disaster happening in my dreamscape. Usually tornadoes.

But this time? It’s Godzilla. Like — that Godzilla. Mind you, I’ve never seen a “Godzilla” flick and don’t plan to, though I can understand the fun and campy value of such a thing. But apparently Godzilla is coming and my small town is battenin’ down the hatches, if you will, because Stuff Is About To Go Down and I’m going to be in the middle of it. I’m racing through town in a car that’s not really my car, but apparently Dream Megan is rich and owns an expensive, sleek automobile. In black.

I arrived at my grandparents’ house, intending to reunite with my family, and I see everyone — parents, sister, aunts and uncles — but realize I’m missing something: a black and onyx ring. Dream Spencer has proposed to Dream Megan with this dark ring, and it’s been lost in my desperation to flee a destructive monster. And that’s not going to work for me.

{Photo from Reeds Jewelers}

Risking life and limb, I leave the sanctuary of my grandparent’s house to search for the ring. I retrace my footsteps. It’s pouring rain and Dream Megan is hysterical, crying and screaming for someone to help her find this weird engagement ring. No one does. Perhaps realizing I’m going out of my ever-lovin’ mind, family members try to restrain me — but I can’t be deterred. Even as Godzilla’s shadow looms and the screams of neighborhood children pour into the streets, Dream Megan is out there stupidly fumbling in the grass in search of a hunk of rock and metal.

Like that thing will help when Godzilla swallows me whole.

I don’t usually remember my dreams. Aside from the ones where tornadoes are looming in the distance, inching closer as I stand before a window, I usually don’t recall anything about my nocturnal imaginings. The scary ones typically include me failing to scream for help when I desperately need to, and that’s pretty much what happened here.

But this one felt so real.

I expected to find the missing ring on my hand when I woke up.


Do you remember your dreams? Ever have one about monsters or missing jewelry? Any thoughts on what this mess might be saying about me?

10 thoughts on “Rings, Godzilla and one crazy dreamscape

  1. If you’ve been pondering on the idea of marriage or engagement for any reason recently, that could account for the ring, and perhaps it also represents how you feel for Spencer, because it meant a lot to you. It also possibly points to an inner determination to do the things you want to do, and to keep what you treasure safe, in the face of difficulties. And now I sound like some sort of new age healer…

    I’m always having strange dreams that I feel the need to analyse, so that they don’t feel so weird. I reckon most times you can find explanations for different elements, though sometimes that involves thinking quite a few days in the past. I remember some dreams, and I find I remember more if my memory is jogged by something.


    • Thanks, Charlie — I’m sure you’re quite right, haha! I do enjoy analyzing dreams when I actually remember them. I had a dream dictionary as a teenager and poured through that thing religiously . . . it’s quite interesting.


  2. I remember multiple dreams almost every night (we have on average 6-7 of them), and I love to think about dreams in general. Therefore, I don’t mind them in books. I don’t like it when they’re excuses, but I do like it when they are interwoven symbolic representation of things. πŸ˜€


    • I enjoy pondering dreams too, Amanda — and I can see what you mean about dreams as a symbolic representation, no information dumping. I guess I’ve never seen it done well, so I could definitely revise my opinion down the road!


  3. I always scribble down my dreams that are THAT real – figuring if I don’t see the meaning now, I may later. And sometimes I’m not sure there IS a meaning, but they’ll make a heck of a story one day πŸ˜‰

    I’ve dreamed I was secretly married to Superman and he was fighting GINORMOUS orange t-rexes — that was weird, haha … I’ve also had several “engagement dreams” where I’ll wake up and immediately feel/check my finger to see if the ring is there (it never is, of course, but I have dreamed up some STUNNING engagement rings!)

    ps: That’s a pretty stunning ring in its own right — Dream Spencer has good taste πŸ˜‰


  4. OMG how trippy!

    When I remember my dreams they are weird, vivid, and allot like this.

    I actually misplaced my engagement ring once and I was hysterically crying, and tore up the house. Allot like you did actually.

    Side note: GREAT ring!

    *fingers crossed* that real Meg gets a ring πŸ™‚


  5. When I saw the picture of the ring in my reader, my mind went a whole ‘nother direction. πŸ˜€

    I rarely remember my dreams, but when I do, they’re weird. They generally involve people from different areas of my life meeting, like my piano instructor then a teacher from college. It’s weird.


  6. I frequently remember my dreams and my husband thinks I’m crazy. No, really. I tell him my most recent dream, and he inches away with *that look* in his eyes. I read somewhere that dreams are your brain’s way of dumping out the trash. I have some weird trash up there, let me tell you.

    Your dream reminds me of one I had in high school that has stuck with me. There was a gigantic (like 20 feet tall) purple chipmunk hanging off a giant crate full of people in my grandparents’ garden. I’ll see your Godzilla and raise you one. πŸ™‚ I can’t make this kind of stuff up!


  7. I always love to read about other people’s dreams, especially “real” ones (versus fictional ones). Crazy things happen in dreams and it’s always interesting for me to try to decipher what happens in mine. I’m the opposite of you on that; I don’t usually not remember my dreams. But I can’t say that I have ever dreamed of Godzilla!
    Also, hum, is this a ring from your future perhaps? πŸ˜€


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