So I never remember any dreams I might have had during the night, which is fine by me. Less to psychoanalyze, I guess. But last night, I dreamed I was in love. Big time in love. The kind of dream where I had a wonderful boyfriend and only wanted to be with him all day. (and I don’t even like lovey-dovey stuff in reality!) The kind of dream, in short, that seems really real. But isn’t. And that, my friends, was a harsh awakening. I think I liked it better when I didn’t remember what I dreamed.