copperbadge:

When I go to Texas to see my folks I often have super-vivid dreams, which I think is down to the fact that I take antihistamines, because Cedar Fever. I was in Texas for three nights, and those three nights got progressively more disturbing: the first night I dreamed I was in a car chase, the second night I dreamed I was a secret agent helping people escape from a cult compound, and the third night I dreamed I was a serial killer whose murders had just been uncovered, thought I hadn’t yet been caught. 

I woke up from just having framed someone else for all the murders and literally lay in bed for about ten minutes thinking, “Okay, that was a dream, but I have killed people in this life. Have I left behind too much evidence? What happens if someone finds out?”

I have not killed anyone, ever, even by accident. And yet, the dream was so real that I literally could not envision an existence where I was not a murderer. Which, I cannot reiterate this enough, I am not.

By comparison, last night, my first night home in Chicago, I dreamed that scientists had bred cats with prehensile tails. The delight was unfathomable.