Dreams are funny things

I used to have save the world dreams. In these dreams I would be a secret agent spy, perhaps, or just in the right spot at the right time with the right knowledge to save the world. Most of the time though, I was a secret agent spy- though the "spy" part was more of a belated addition to secret agent. In these dreams I would find myself flying secret jets to secret military bases just in time to stop the bad guys. I could kick butt better than Buffy and always knew exactly the thing that needed to be done. Usually I was alone, though there is one time I remember rather vividly that my mom was there helping me to steal back the secret laptops stolen by the bad guys.

I hadn't realized when those save the world dreams ended. They might have ended after I met E. But even then I recall some during that time, so perhaps rather than coming to an abrupt halt, they faded and returned until suddenly I realized that I was no longer saving the world in my sleep.

Now my dreams are full of mysteries and adventures, but none so dire as saving the world. They echo back at me movies and books and news I have read and hint at concerns waiting to be addressed.

So why suddenly am I no longer saving the world? Will I one night return to being the hero the world needs at the moment it needs one?

I could theorize that having met E and having later found a job that gives me purpose, I no longer feel a lack of purpose or a lack of belonging.

Or I could theorize that I'm no longer remembering the dreams as well- that I am still having those dreams but they fade instantly into the dark from whence they came. I can recall that last night's dream involved villans, a chase, and a deep sorrow for a man whose family was destroyed in the fight (a sorrow that lasted through other dreams throughout the night). I cannot recall the purpose of the fight or whether I was victorious, and many of the details that once would have been clear have been blurred from my mind.

A part of me misses being the hero, even if it was only while I slept. I was strong enough to beat up any bad guy, smart enough to figure out any pending disaster's solution, and quick enough to use my strength and wits in conjunction.

But if I am not having these dreams any more, can I conclude that my happiness and contentedness with my life has pushed aside the desire to be more? Or can I conclude that I am seeing myself as an everyday hero, one who does not need to be a hero in secret?

Dreams are funny things.