It's not very often that I bore people with the details of my dream, but this one is worth talking about.
In the dream, I am in an insane asylum, but not gothic. It's a modern hospital, and I am in the crafts room along with numerous other patients. There is another crafts room that is slowly accumulating more patients because the crayon selection is better. I am drawing scenes from my alternate life (my real life) with crayons. The patients are all people I know in my alternate life. The orderlies are also people I know.
The scenes that I am drawing are from my alternate self, and one of the other patients remarks that I'm just a dreamer and that these things never happened. I tell him that they did happen. I tell him that I remember them.
Then I wake up. And for a split second, I question my own reality. Am I the man who dreams of the asylum, or am I the man who dreams of sanity?
Dreams sometimes mess with my sense of reality, and this one sure did. While I showered, I went over my memories and tried to determine if my real life was real or if they were false memories. It was a weird way to start my week.