I wasn't sure until a few months ago whether I dreamed in color or in black & white. I could tell you that my dreams had a musical soundtrack, and it has always sounded like the music of certain composers I have only gravitated toward in recent years. In fact, quite often the last thing I remembered before falling asleep was the opening flourish of a musical theme, and upon waking up I sometimes caught snatches of the dying music.
But color or b&w? I didn't really know until sometime last fall, when I dozed off in the passenger seat while carpooling to work. I was suddenly jerked to wakefulness by a brief dream in which a light blue, 1970s-model Datsun stopped dead in front of us. After getting over the minor heart attack this dream caused, I appreciated what it had taught me: I dream in color. Plus, I was wide awake and alert when I arrived at work!
Last night, I dreamed in opera.
When my alarm went off, a coloratura soprano was warming up to a touching climax in an aria about how heartbroken she has been since she discovered that her fiancee paid for their engagement ring by selling national secrets to the enemy. She really sounded good, and I felt sad for her. I would pay to hear music like that. It's too bad I had to leave (wake up) during one of the good parts.