Dreams/Nightmares - What's normal?

I really hate dreams.

Dreams are really personal to me. I usually remember them, because I usually force myself to wake up during them. You know how in Freddy Kreuger movies the people have to learn how to take control of their dreams to defeat Freddy? Well, I can do that, and even though I’m not having to battle him, my dreams are still awful. Usually they either have a lot of blood in them, or people who have died. Very unpleasant either way, for different reasons.

The ones with blood are just disturbing. Usually it’s my blood. The most vivid one I remember was one in which I was standing in a fountain. I’m not sure why, but that’s where I was. Someone was after me, and I was terrified, and I don’t remember who they were or what they looked like, but I do remember that I finally looked up at them and said, “I refuse to let you take me.” And then I slit my wrists, slicing the flesh from my wrist nearly up to my elbow. I held up my arms to show my pursuer, and the blood just ran down my skin to splash in the water in the fountain. The blood was so red and warm and thick. I don’t think I’ve ever had that much sensory detail in any other dream. I could feel it, smell it, and just the image of it dropping into the crystal blue water still haunts me.

That’s when I forced myself to wake up. I don’t know what would have happened after that. I didn’t want to find out.

I have a lot of dreams like that, being chased or pursued. I wonder why. Do other people have those dreams? After those, I make myself stay awake long enough to shake off the horror I’ve just been through.

Then there are the dreams about dead loved ones. I have a lot of those about Papa and about Uncle Gene. I loved them both so much, but these dreams are disturbing. Usually in the ones about Papa, he’s just skin and bones. In the most recent one, he was dead, but had been allowed to come live in his house for another week or so. We knew his time was limited. We were all staying in his house with him, and he was talking about the changes that had been made to it since his death. He looked so horrible, the way he did during his last days lying in his home hospital bed. His skin was loose and wrinkly over his skeleton, because he’d lost so much weight. His cheeks were drawn in, and his eyes were piercing. It was our beloved Papa, and yet it wasn’t.

And then when I wake up from a dream like that, I experience the loss all over again. It’s like he’s just died, and I’m left with that aching emptiness.

I really hate dreams.

What’s wrong with me anyway? Are these dreams normal? What do others dream about? I’d like to know.