I only remember dreams from early childhood.
One, where I was wandering in my backyard and a vulture, sitting on our playset, grabbed me and stuffed me down its throat.
Another where I became self-aware I was in a dream while walking down a maze, and decided there was no point in continuing down the maze if it wasn’t real, so I pinched myself and woke up.
Another, years later, where I was driving to Disney World with cops on my tail, and hiding in a secret base my grandparents apparently owned.