I have come to believe that dreams are not random. Somehow, they often mirror the activities and problems happening in my real life. I don't have any scientific evidence for this — it's simply what I've noticed through my own experience.
Whenever something is stressing me — a tough bug in code, an argument that leaves me angry, or a problem I can't stop thinking about — I almost always dream that night. The dream usually feels heavy, like my mind is still wrestling with the same issue while I sleep.
For the longest time, I would wake up and the dream would vanish completely. I could feel that something important had happened in my sleep, but I couldn't remember a single detail. So I started keeping a notebook and pen right next to my bed. The moment I opened my eyes, I would grab the pen and write everything down — fast, without thinking, just letting the words pour out. Sometimes I filled pages before the dream slipped away.
Writing the dreams was easy. Understanding them was something else entirely.
I learned the hard way that interpreting a dream wrongly can mislead you. After collecting many dreams in my notebook, most of them still felt meaningless. So I decided to try a different approach — not after the dream, but while I was still inside it.
Now, when I realise I'm dreaming, I force myself to stay longer. Even if something in the dream is trying to wake me up, I refuse to leave. I start paying attention to everything around me: the exact colour of the sun, what people are wearing, how many fingers I have on my hands, the sound of voices (if there are any). I try to engage with the other characters in the dream, to ask questions, to understand what is happening.
It's difficult. It takes real effort. But when I finally wake up, I don't feel the usual heaviness. Instead, I feel lighter — as if something heavy that was weighing on my chest has been lifted.
Then I write the dream down again, and this time I sit with it for days. I think about it while walking, while coding, while eating. Slowly, pieces start to make sense. The dream stops feeling like a mystery and starts feeling like a message.
That process gives me a deep sense of accomplishment. It feels like I've achieved something real — even though it all happened while I was asleep. More than that, it leaves me with a quiet belief that there is something bigger than me out there, quietly rooting for me.
I love to dream.
But most of the time, these days, I don't.