No one enjoys hearing about other people’s dreams, but for some reason, people love talking about their own dreams. The dreams of artists, like writers, are particularly interesting. In a letter, Katherine Mansfield recounts a dream she had about Oscar Wilde, where they meet in a café and Wilde is dressed oddly. Vladimir Nabokov dreams of hunting butterflies with a spoon. Ernest Hemingway has dreams about war, and sometimes even dreams about famous actresses. Sylvia Plath dreams of colorful party dresses for her daughters and being published in The New Yorker. Saul Bellow dreams of Tolstoy and his own penis (of course). Kurt Vonnegut dreams of murder. Emily Dickinson dreams of bees. Anaïs Nin dreams of perfect harmony. Susan Sontag dreams about her bad husband and bad students. Zora Neale Hurston admits to having recurring dreams that foretell the future, and finally, Iris Murdoch dreams that her friends are philosophers.
https://lithub.com/no-one-cares-about-your-dreams-unless-youre-a-famous-writer/