Why it's better not to dream (literally)

I do not often dream (or at least I don't notice somehow), which I generally find to be a good thing. When I dream, I find that I wake up more often in the middle of the night, I find the sleep itself to be more restless, and generally, I'll only finally groggily get out of bed while still not rested after one dream is particularly disturbing and makes me not want to go back to bed. So, yeah, that's fun.

Perhaps more importantly, for our present purposes, it should be known I very rarely dream of anything, you know, sexual. I'm not entirely sure why that's the case, but my subconscious just doesn't seem to go that route with dreams. Sure, when I was a kid, I could have the same dream twice where I had to chase the Red Baron through labyrinthine trials and mind games, but does my dream self ever get freak nasty with some hot ladyfolk? Never. Also, "freak nasty with some hot ladyfolk" may or may not be the correct contemporary nomenclature. I didn't go to the Urban Dictionary for this one. Anyhow, usually, I don't feel like I'm missing out on anything, and it's been pretty sweet to never have to deal with the dreaded "nocturnal emission," but sometimes, you know, having a dream like that might be cool?

But, BUT, I dreamed last night, and the set-up for my dream is one that is entirely sexy. In this dream, this super-attractive girl and I were friends...with benefits! Come on, guys, you know this to be objectively sexy. I mean, this dream is literally, "Meet up with a hot girl for touching." So this girl and I are going to meet up, and my dream is basically taking the next left turn possible into Sexytown. So, as you can tell, the dream is going well. But just as I put on the blinker to make that left turn...

Dream sexy friend wants to talk about emotions and feelings. She would like to discuss how it's obvious she wants something more than just "friends with benefits," and how I've been messing with her head for a long time now, because why don't I just get it? And the worst part is, as she was saying this, I saw her point. I thought to myself, "Oh, man, the signs have been obvious. I am a dick, even if unintentionally!" I felt pretty bad about my dream self. In my dream, I actually felt remorse, and that pang you get in your stomach when you realize you've done something pretty terribly that's not exactly fixable. You know that feeling? You know that feeling you get at work, when you realize that you've been doing something terribly wrong the whole day, and then you think about whether you can fix it or not, and then realize you can't, and have that thirty seconds of sitting there staring ahead before you tell your boss, and it feels awful? I physically felt that, times ten, while sleeping, and even once I woke up, while being berated by a friend that doesn't even exist.

So, obviously, there was not antiquing in Sexytown in this dream.

My subconscious, basically, set up the ideal sexy dream scenario, only to then pull the rug out from under me and make me feel guilty about a friend that I literally made up. Nice work, brain. Thanks. Just, whose side are you on, anyway? Oh, and then my next dream was one in which I met up with an (actual) ex-girlfriend. And then I helped bring groceries in from her car to her house. No joke. That was the very next dream. The one after that was the disturbing one that made me get up. We don't have to discuss it.

This is why I'd rather just not dream.