Nope, not crazy. It's lucid dreaming, as Ryan pointed out. It's the coolest thing in the world, isn't it? (I have induced it a few times on purpose, but it's difficult for me to do as it involves retaining a bit of consciousness while going to sleep and I usually am hard asleep about two minutes after I lay down.) There's actually a very nifty song about lucid dreaming called Silent Lucidity by Queensryche ...
Anyway, IIRC, if you remember your dreams that means you woke up during the cycle. If you sleep through, you don't remember the dreams. I think that's how it is, anyway.
I rarely have nightmares, but I do have the coolest dreams. The only recurring dream I have as an adult is one where we are staying in this HUGE house, and it's furnished. (We don't own it.) I don't know my furniture very well, but the furnishings are all classic European styles, and there is always one big room that is jam-packed with furniture (and sometimes people in evening wear); it's almost like a show room. But the thing about this house is that there is always something wrong with it, usually a section of the roof that is literally falling in. When I see that part in the dream, I think I'm usually glad that we don't own the house because that is going to be an expensive repair.
When I was a kid, I had a few recurring dreams. Well, one was a nightmare, actually. In that one, I was in the parking lot of a local grocery store, running toward the store because the grim reaper was chasing me. Only I couldn't really run; it felt like my feet were encased in concrete. I almost make it to the store when the grim reaper catches up to me. I turn around, and under the hood is—my dad. It's kind of funny in a morbid way now, but it was a terrifying nightmare as a child, and it did a pretty fair job of symbolizing how I felt about my dad IRL.
My other dream was me and my older sister (12 years older than I am) walking through a mall. In the hallway of the mall, there is a display in a 10-gallon fish tank. It's sort of a diorama of a shoe store. We stand there looking into it, and all of a sudden, we are in it. My sister starts talking to the proprietor, and I wander around looking at stuff. The carpet, I remember, was two-tone shag, gold and light green. The walls were lined with shelves with shoes on them, and the floor was filled with free-standing racks, the kind a lot of stores display their clearance shoes on. The racks were made of brass, very shiny brass. I picked my nose and wiped it on one of the racks (hey, I was a kid), and then wandered off down a concrete hallway. Down this hallway to the right were rooms, cubicles really, made of that cheap plywood panelling. The rooms didn't have doors, just doorways. I looked in every one, and in one of the rooms there was a bald man, completely tatooed, sitting on a wooden stool playing an acoustic guitar. Then I woke up.
I love dreams.
