Does one’s brain write dreams ahead of time?

Instructions for reading this post: don’t skip around, scan, or skim through it. It’s a long one, but you’ll want to wait until you have time to read it straight through. Mainly that’s because there’s a “plot twist” of sorts toward the end.

I’m actually going to post a dream I had this week – which I wouldn’t typically do, because, who cares about other people’s dreams, right? And this dream isn’t uplifting or funny. It’s actually disturbing. But there is something that was absolutely fascinating about it – and that’s the fact that it contains, at the end, a movie-like plot twist. And the curious thing is, I don’t understand how that is possible.

I always assumed the brain made dreams up as it went along. One thing turns into another thing without any planning. But this plot twist appears to have required some planning ahead. There were elements that appeared early in the dream that were foreshadowing the plot twist, which would not have been plausible without them. Does the brain write dreams ahead of time, and then roll them out like movies? I don’t think so. Or was it just chance, and at the last minute my brain was able to realize that a plot twist just happened to be possible, like when you unintentionally set someone up to crack the perfect joke?

Here is the dream, you can decide for yourself.

It all started out fine – we had a new house. It was a reddish-brown color, real adobe with thick walls, set into the side of a hill. I remember in particular the master bedroom, which was rounded, as is common with adobe, although the rounded effect was exaggerated, as is common when a newer building mimics an old style.
The bedroom had a view across to a hill in a distance, where I could see a high-end, low-density, newer subdivision scattered in the hills. I couldn’t actually see the far horizon, only the top of that ridge, which bugged me slightly after the long distance views of our house in Placitas. It was as if the whole world was contained within the boundary of that ridge. But it was still a pleasant view, and I knew the lights of the houses on the opposite hill would be pretty at night. There was also a patio off the master bedroom with the same view.
I remember thinking it would be a bitch to go jogging from that house, down to the bottom of the hill and then back up the next one, then turn around and go back down the opposite hill and back up our hill to our house. But then I realized it was more like a basin than two separate hills, so I could probably run laterally from the house, parallel to the ridge, and it might be fairly flat that way. Then I decided it was too far to run anyway. And then I realized I wasn’t really jogging anymore anyway. Perhaps I could walk it, and maybe there would be parks along the way to rest.
John and I had just moved into the house, and we had family visiting – Laura was there, and maybe a couple others, I can’t remember who, but we were a group of about 5 or so.
Here is where the dream gets stranger. A couple of people whom I did not know sat down at our dining room table right before we were going to eat. I thought we should tell them to leave, but John said that would be rude, and there was room for them, and they would leave soon enough. The table was long, and seated 5 or 6 on each side. Our group ended up sitting on both sides of them, and we were talking over them, which seemed rude of us. But I figured they could leave if they didn’t like it, because they didn’t even belong there.
But then the dinner that I had taken care to cook for myself, vegetables and things, was overcooked and mushy and bland. And I knew it was them who had done that to my food, had left it sitting and allowed it to overcook. I was annoyed, and wasn’t hungry anyway, so I left and went to our room.
I was happy with my computer or books or whatever. But then 3 more people, whom I also didn’t know, came into my room and were messing with my stuff. It was almost like when you’re a child, and the neighborhood kids come over and play with your toys. And you’re afraid your toys will get get broken or lost because they’re not as careful as you are. Then I was really annoyed and ordered them out, and they left.
Then Phil, my old coach and mentor from almost 20 years ago, came to visit me. I was sad to see how old he was; very old, and on IV lines. I gave him a hug and he was so frail and his white skin was like paper. I felt bad for him, he was so very old, so close to death. I put my hands on the sides of his pale face and looked at him, and he was almost like a baby, he was so old. And I thought of Laura when she was first born, hooked to lines and tubes like he was, and I remembered how I thought she was going to die.
Phil told me that Amanda had left him and he hadn’t known what to do. So he had gone on a cruise, the kind that stayed close to shore, just like I had once suggested to him back when we were coaching together. I didn’t remember that he had someone named Amanda, and I didn’t remember telling him he should go on a cruise. But it made sense, because I knew he had once sailed across the Atlantic on a small sailboat (this is true in real life, he did). I had been impressed to hear that he had sailed across the ocean, but he had downplayed it, and wouldn’t talk about it, only saying that he had not enjoyed it; it was tedious with nothing but open ocean, and he would never do it again and did not recommend it. (All of that was true in real life).
So in my dream, it made sense to me that I might have suggested that next time he just take a cruise that stays close to shore! And he had, and he told me that he had enjoyed it, and thanked me for the suggestion. I asked him how he had managed to find me to visit, but he didn’t seem to know.
And then suddenly I realized what was happening. Those strangers in my house were grim reapers, like in the TV show, “Dead Like Me,” where people who have already died come to you shortly before you die, so at the exact moment that you die they can make sure your soul releases from your body. They escort you to the afterlife.
There were several of these grim reaper escorts, about the same number as we had family visiting. I realized with horror that they were there because we were all going to die at once, that very evening. I had to let everyone know! They didn’t understand! Those grim reapers had come for all of us! We were going to be hit with some sort of catastrophe. What could kill us all at once? I thought for a moment it could be a fire, but then I decided it was more likely that it would be a stray bomb. It seems the country was at war, but that our isolated neighborhood was an unlikely target.
The horror of the sudden understanding that we were all going to die imminently jerked me awake (or so I thought). But I think it simply ended that stage of the dream and I wasn’t fully awake.
Because then my perception shifted, and I saw those same events as something completely different. It was like at the end of the movie Sixth Sense when you suddenly realize reality wasn’t at all what you had thought.
I realized that I was a very old woman in an expensive nursing home, confused with Alzheimers. That’s why there were long tables, strangers, and mushy food in the dining room. That’s why the majority of the dream had taken place in my bedroom rather than the main part of the house. That’s why there were strangers in my room messing with my stuff.
Phil wasn’t Phil, he was just some random, very old man who had once been left by a woman named Amanda, and had once taken a cruise that someone had suggested to him. We each imagined we had known each other long ago, but neither of us were who the other one thought we were. And there were no grim reapers, only nursing home staff, who are actually a little bit like grim reapers. Even in the confusion of my dementia, I knew that we would die soon and those strangers were there to help us on our way.