To Sleep, Perchance to Dream...

If you haven’t already guessed, it’s been one of those nights again.

Not quite as late as last time I found myself up and writing in the dark, but it’s not far off.

The time—courtesy of an overtired Rebecca—is currently 1:59am. And in true over-tired fashion, I can’t shut my brain up. So here I am, talking to you instead.

(And just in case you’re wondering… no, counting sheep doesn’t work. Whoever came up with that idea? Total nonsense!)

It’s been a funny old week—lots to process.

We’ve had family drama, full-on days at the day job, long nights working to get the Shatter The Silence website up and running (more on that later), and of course, my regular dose of vivid, slightly unhinged dreams.

This week, though?

The dreamscape was next level weird—so much so that even the lovely Mr Browell is starting to wonder if I’m maybe slightly certifiable. (Insert shocked and laughing face here!)

Its another one of those.... No dreaming tonight

Ever since I was a kid, I’ve had incredibly vivid dreams. Some were magical, others downright disturbing.

I’ve never really been one of those lucky souls who forgets them two minutes after waking up. If a dream is bad, it can stick with me for hours—or days.

The upside? When a dream is good, I get to relive it again and again.

More often than not, my dreams are just odd. And this week has been no exception.

Tossing and turning tonight, I found myself wondering:

Where do dreams really come from and why do some of us remember them in detail, while others barely recall a thing?

Naturally, I turned to Google (because of course).

Turns out, people who regularly recall their dreams tend to have more activity in a brain region called the temporoparietal lobe. (What now?)

Basically, it’s the part of your brain that processes emotions, sensory information, language, and memory. So it makes sense that if your dream recall is strong, that area is working overtime.

(There’s a bit more to it, but that’s the simple version, because… science makes my head hurt.)

As a child, my dreams were vivid—and often filled with flying.

Dreaming about flying high!

Now, not to brag, but I was excellent at flying. There was just one catch: I had to swim through the air

Yes, you read that right. Just holding my arms out like Superman didn’t cut it. If I wasn’t doing a proper front crawl through the sky, I’d plummet. Traumatic, I know.

For those of you who've ever had a falling dream, you’ll know how awful that moment is—waking up right before you hit the ground.

For me - no breaststroke, no bungee cord!

Here’s the thing though: in those dreams, the world below was always breathtaking.

There were no planes—just birds, usually seagulls, and more often than I’d like to admit… the occasional UFO. Sometimes I’d fly alongside them, sometimes I’d be trying to get away. And as I pushed myself to fly faster and higher, I’d discover landscapes below that were wild, open, and full of possibility.

Fields. Forests. Lakes. Mountains. And the sea—stretching endlessly past the horizon.

That might be where my love of the sea began. Always moving, never ending.

Flying above those vast oceans felt like looking into the future and seeing that anything was possible.

And you know what? Those dreams taught me something I carry with me to this day:

No matter the obstacle, water always finds a way.

Whether it's the crashing waves of the ocean or the gentle flow of a brook, water continues to move forward. Slowly, patiently, unshakably.

That’s Mother Nature teaching us how to live:— Think creatively— Be patient with the process— Stay tenacious, even when the path isn’t clear

Our journey isn’t and shouldn't be about the destination—it’s about the adventure.

These days, my flying dreams haven’t stopped but they have changed.

The sky is busier. The land is more built-up. Where once I floated above peaceful, untouched places, now it’s industry and clutter—things my brain seems to want to force in.

It’s a shame, really. That early magic—the simplicity—feels harder to reach. But every now and then, I can still shift the dream’s dynamic.

And maybe… maybe that chaos is part of the process too.

Dreams are confusing creatures.

Sometimes beautiful, sometimes terrifying.

Sometimes full of clarity. Other times, a mess of noise, but maybe that’s the point.

Maybe we’re not meant to control them.

Maybe they exist to help us process what we can’t yet articulate.

To unlock the imagination, to feed our creativity, to remind us what’s still possible.

Maybe dreaming—really dreaming—isn’t a waste of time at all. Maybe it’s the most powerful thing we do.

So dream. Do it loudly. Do it quietly. Do it vividly.

However you do it, let go and let your mind soar!

Until next time...