Three nights ago I began to dream again. I'm not sure why. I have several theories as to why, and I'm not going to go into them. The why of it is not relevant. The very fact that my dreams have re-emerged is what is relevant.

I've always been a believer in dreams being the gateway between the conscious and subconscious mind. In other words, I believe that Freud was onto something. It's strange the way that dreams tie into reality. During childhood, dreams were a normal part of life and shrugged off as being meaningless or coincidental. As I entered my teenage years, there were occasional dreams that held more significance, and they led me to question just how coincidental they really were. The first significant dream that I remember involved a guy at my high school that I had a huge crush on. I was 16 years old and he was a year older, but I knew him because we both worked part-time at the twin-cinema movie theatre, the only theatre in town. We were work friends and I couldn't tell if he felt the same way as I did about him. I tortured myself every day, trying to figure it out.

One night I had a dream about him. He was holding hands with a dark-haired girl and they were walking down the stairs of the high school while I passed them on my way upstairs. When I awoke, I knew that we would only ever be just friends and he would find someone else. Sure enough two weeks later, I found out he was seeing someone else. She had dark hair. It didn't hurt too much because at least I saw it coming. Coincidence? I don't know. The scientist in me believes that it was simply my brains way of putting together all the puzzle pieces of daily life, processing all relevant information, and presenting the conclusion in a way that my daytime awareness can understand. It's like having a therapist inside my head, except it has a duct-taped mouth and can only talk to me through images, feelings, body language, and occasional words or phrases that are always jumbled and confusing like poetry that needs to be reread many times to make an interpretation that may not even be right. That was not the last premonition that I had, if it can even be called that. Many more followed, all the way into my early twenties. For example, during a period of anxiety and stress in my life, I had a dream that evoked feelings of calm, telling me that everything would be okay. Upon awakening, the feeling of calm stayed with me. In the end, everything was okay. It was comforting to have this internal mechanism that helped to maintain emotional balance.

Several years ago the dreams stopped completely, and I'm not sure why. But like I was saying, my dreams have returned. It feels like the voice of truth is back. The first night, I dreamed about a childhood moment of my mother being very hard on me, too hard on me I think. The emotions were vivid and I awoke with a clear memory of how much I hate it when anyone gets on my back about things; it happens to be something that my SO has been accusing me of doing to him. Talk about a wake up call; he's much happier since I've had that revelation. The second night, I dreamed that I was back at the medical laboratory where I did my work placement. In the dream, I was on the verge of being hired. I want to work there badly and I hear they are hiring, so this dream is a sign to me that I need to re-apply, because I will be hired eventually if I keep trying. Last night I dreamed that I was tricked into destroying a creature that should have been saved, but then I was told that it was "just the outside husk." The inner layer of the creature was locked safely in a hidden room, and this was the real creature. The core was preserved. This means something. I don't know what, but it means something.

I look outside the my apartment window and see that the sky is a shade of whitish-grey. It looks like rain is coming. In the distance, the outlines of tall buildings downtown seem darker grey, the edges blending into the surrounding fog. There is an apartment building across from us, perpendicular in relation to our balcony so that only the sides of balconies are visible. There are bikes and plants and patio furniture and items wrapped up in blue plastic for storage. There is a piece of clear, weathered plastic tied to one of the metal railings, blowing in the wind. It has been there ever since we moved here last November and I want nothing more than to snip it off with a pair of scissors. Evergreen trees line the front space of the building, a carpet of rust coloured pine needles surrounding the base of the trunks. A light green leafy tree is wedged between them and bits of it are turning orange and red. A cool breeze wafts through the window and into the room, raising bumps on bare arms and filling lungs with the same freshness your mouth gets from chewing spearmint gum. It's the sort of weather that calls for pants, closed-toe shoes, and some sort of jacket or sweater but nothing too heavy because it's not cold enough to snow yet. There's a Rubbermaid bucket full of hats and mitts and scarves that will need to be unpacked soon, but for now a long, thick red-purple-orange-brown chunky hand knitted scarf is the perfect thing to wear outside. Today would be a great day to go for a walk and pick up some apple cider or hot chocolate to drink slowly. It's too chilly for iced cappuccinos or lemonade, and I'm not going to miss them. The season is changing and nothing can stop it. Sometimes, change is just what we need.