I don't generally have sweet dreams. Mine are quite mundane.
The scariest was reading a book before going to sleep. It was a great book. I managed to fall asleep while reading, and continued the story in my dream.
The next morning I woke up, and reached for the book so I could continue reading. It wasn't there. I searched my entire bedroom. It wasn't there. Then I remembered: I hadn't been reading the night before. The whole thing was a dream.
That scared me. I was so convinced that a dream was real that I'd spent fifteen minutes searching for a book that never existed. How many times has that happened without me finding out? How much of my life never happened?
My sweetest dreams are being back at my Mother's bedside as she lay dying, only THIS time she wakes up from the coma and tells me she loves me too...
Because you're not into scat, Wilma?
Sorry.
This is more one of those half-dreams that pop into your head when you're just dozing off to sleep (or, as I was, enduring a very restless night)...
Last night I dreamed I was a professional footballer. Okay, you might say, but every body-part played for a different club. Left leg was a midfielder for Chelsea, right leg a striker at York, my hands were the Birmingham City goalkeeper, etc... :!: