Lucid dreams

Why is it that I can never remember the better dreams? I know I have them, occasionally - actually, quite often - I wake up in a condition that well, er, suffice to say that it leaves no doubt about the kind of dream I've been having.

Yet I never remember those.

The ones I do remember are traumatic, like last night.

I woke up at fourish from a horrible dream in which I was scrambling for a gun, to shoot at incoming zombies, yet all the zombies I could see were the zombified remains of my two dead dogs, in cages, on the balcony.

Through it all I wasn't scared at all, in fact it all felt weirdly "normal".

Then I went back to bed and eventually fell back asleep after a few minutes. And the worst of the dreams started, I suppose.

In this one, I had parked my old car in front of my mom's house, where I grew up. I then took out a shovel from the boot, dug up -I kid you not- my dead father's bones from an underground chamber, removed the brown, slithery, oily bones from what was essentially a wooden box frame, placed something in their stead, and replaced the bones on top.

I was in the process of filling the hole when my mom came out and told me I wasn't allowed to do that, to which I replied: "Do what, dig up dad, or bury the roof?" Pan the dream camera to the front porch of my mom's house where the front part of a triangular roof was resting against the cement wall.

Yep.

All true.

I'm not sure what the Freudian symbolism of all this is, I suppose in the dream I try to hide something by burying it, and that quite possibly it might be something that might have shocked my father.

On the other hand I'm glad that my dream didn't involve any unicorns.