a dream in pink

For some time now I have tried to document notable dreams that have come to me. Some dreams are just plain confused, some are scary, some exciting, and some so boring that the memory does not even consider them worthwhile storing it even for a fleeting few minutes or hours. The ones that have the most impact on us are the ones that feel real. These lucid dreams could be of horror, love, hurt, separation, anguish, physical pain, suffering, elation, intense excitement, and a plethora of other emotions that feel real beyond doubt. Then there are dreams that are remarkable not only because of how they make us feel but by their uncanny ability to mimic things in real life before they have happened, a sort of foretelling if you will. Dreams that one dreams and wakes up to find that some aspect of them has been repeated in the day. Dreams are mysterious indeed, and for all the work Freud has done, I am still not convinced he got to the bottom of it all. Simply because each human mind is unique, each experience is unique, and dreams are a product of these experiences and the mysteries locked in the uniqueness of the human brain. How can a general answer for dreams exist then, how can there be a rule for billions of exceptions?
My dream had two notable features. One has been a recurring occurrence in my dreams lately, in the past year or so. Before this when I was attacked or accosted in dreams I would be unable to fight back, even when I would will myself to defence or counter attack it would be impossible. The ghost would scare me, or I would get hit on the head with the falling brick, or even when the ledge was at hand I would be unable to reach out and grab it. This has changed now, and I find myself fighting and winning my battles. I find myself climbing out of desperate situations. The second notable feature was a moment of intense joy, and love. A moment I would dearly love to have repeated in my dreams or real life as many times as possible.
I was back in a sort of a dystopian school. There were a few buildings. One building with golden placks and varnished heavy wooden doors, plush carpets and excellent class rooms. This was my building and all students going into this building seemed to be well dressed and aiming at some sort of post high school education.
Then there were other buildings, crumbling, dark, mouldy. They were mere skeletons with no furniture, gaping holes for windows, no lights except what nature provided. The darkest building you can imagine, and with the students to match. A few stories high, and stair cases with no railings, these were the buildings where teachers had no control over their classes. A group of ruffians would stand outside the class smoking cigarettes and taking swigs of liquor while class was in session.
On my first day I walked in and was attacked by a group of these ruffians. I took a few knocks but eventually I was able to win the fight by the sheer strength of my will, a brick that I found on the ground as I was being kicked in the sides and the head, and a surge of strength that can only come to a man scared beyond all means. My fear propelled me to win this fight. And I proceeded to my fair building. The next day something strange happened. I walked in to the premises and found myself drawn to the dark building. My steps took a life of their own, I knew I was not supposed to be here, but my feet kept moving, up the stairs till I entered this class room on the top floor, with holes in the wall serving as windows. Then I found myself stepping over one of these door shaped holes in the wall onto a ledge. There I came face to face with the four assailants who I had humiliated only the other day. I knew I had made a mistake. I said, "I shouldn't be here, I am sorry". I did not want a fight. They approached, laughing, not in a sinister way, but almost friendly, as if I had come to join them. I literally tracked back, off the ledge into the class room, down the stairs out of the building into my own.
The dream broke here.
I found myself in my classroom, magically blown through the carpeted halls, and the stairway in a class room, in the front row. In a moment I realized that I was dressed in an unusual manner. I had a sleeveless black sweater, over a shirt and over the black sweater, I had a pink full sleeve sweater. I sat pondering why I could have dressed this way when I noticed that there sat next to me was a girl with blonde hair framing a face that I can only describe as being angelic, eyes deep pools of love, and she was wearing a pink sweater of the same exact shade. She noticed just as I did and took my arm and said, "oh look we are matching" and then kissed the bare skin of my arm for which the sleeve of the sweater magically disappeared. Although I do realize that this is off the charts when it comes to the "cheese factor", this is how it happened and there is no point being untrue to myself. This moment was sheer bliss, utter joy, indescribable. This was also the end of the dream.
I woke up desperate to put a name on that face. The name that my brain suggested was "Brechin" and I could not find out why till I realized that before sleeping the night before I had looked up a football club in the city of Brechin some way north of here. That then could not be it. She shall then remain nameless.
I forgot about this dream, till I was in bed again that night about to go to sleep. Then an event from the day occurred to me which put a new twist to the dream and its mysteries in general. I had gone into my parents' bedroom in the day, after lunch. My dad was on the laptop and my mom was reading something. They were both wearing tops in the shade of pink. I made a remark and they looked at each other and said, "oh we had not noticed".
Strange co-incidence? or could it be something else, something that is beyond you and me? something that maybe only another dream will reveal or perhaps something that will unravel with time. I certainly hope so.