What’s Dreaming Like?

"What's dreaming like, Diane?" Roman breathed, eyes still closed. He lay in the grass with his hands behind his head. Still and peaceful, as if he could be dreaming at this very moment. 

"Dreaming...," I thought, "Dreaming is like, well, it's like being in a movie. It seems kind of real and normal but it's not at the same time." 

"Wrong."

"Excuse me?" 

"You're wrong. Dreams are very different. You're just not doing a very good job of explaining it."

"Well, I'm sorry," I sighed impatiently, "I guess...I guess dreams are more like books. In the back of your mind, you know it's not real, but you get so immersed in it all. You go places you've never gone before. You do things that seem impossible, that are impossible. You're just reading this book that your mind creates, a completely untrue story, but all the emotions are real. But it ends without a real ending. It's like someone just plucks the book out of your hands when you were just getting to a good part in a chapter." 

"That sounds nice," Roman smiled, "and a bit frustrating. But good nonetheless." 

I nodded. 

"It's wonderful when you're having a good dream. But sometimes, no one stops it. It just keeps on going. Like, you're about to get eaten alive by a giant spider or you're plummeting off the edge of a cliff, and you think 'I'll wake up just before it gets me. I'll wake up just before I hit the ground.' And sometimes you do. But sometimes, you don't." 

I felt a little sad, remembering all those reoccurring nightmares I've been having lately. 

"Is it worth it?" he asked. 

"Huh?"

"Is all the mental pain and terror worth the short fleeting moments of happiness?"

"I...I honestly don't know."

"Hmph." 

A moment passed. A bird twittered somewhere in the trees. 

"Dreams are a lot like life then, aren't they?" 

That got me thinking. I looked over at him to ask what he meant, but he had fallen fast asleep.