When I was a child, I would dream in black and white.  Only a small fraction of my dreams would be in color, to match normal perception of day, respectively.  And yet there is something beautiful about black and white dreams.  They are often mysterious as the characters generally fade into ones perception much like silhouettes, or a ghost coming towards ones self walking out of a cover of fog.  For reasons I cannot explain, as as adult, the vast majority of my dreams are in vivid color, the complete opposite of those I had during my childhood.