I had a Buddhist teacher in college that would get us everyday by asking, "Where were you 100 years ago. Where will you be 100 years from now?" 

I’m reminded of when I wake from a beautiful dream but can barely remember it. I know it was glorious and full of intricate wonders, but I am only left with a warm glow. I suppose the same is true of waking from a bad dream. Just vague, ill feelings. I am the same me, presumably, as the one who conceived the dream, but it is no longer mine. There is a sense that though the dreamer has borrowed the vernacular from my life, he/she/it is just pure consciousness, and a little closer to what the waking self might be without the baggage of social and egoistic expectations. It’s freer, but still under the influence. So I guess the best we can do is influence the waker from life to feel that warm glow rather than the doom and gloom.