I don't dream a lot. That is to say, I don't remember many dreams that I have. When I was a kid and young man, I had a very active dream life, but don't think that I miss it. Most of those dreams were nightmares of one sort or another. They ranged from simple stress dreams to full-fledged night terrors that would wake me with my heart racing and a drenching sweat. So, no, I don't miss dreams too much.
Here's an example of a recent nightmare (which actually occurred during and afternoon nap):
I dreamed that when we took Oscar home from the hospital, they gave him to us in a jar. This was normal apparently, and we weren't concerned about it at all. The problem came when he was grown and it was time to take him out of the jar. Oscar slept through this process, his hair waving in the fluid that looked like pickle brine. The jar had a strip around its circumference and the instructions on the jar saids to tap this strip gently with a hammer.
The moment I touched the glass with the hammer, it shattered into a million shards. Oscar was covered in needle sharp lengths of glass. I remember being unable to do anything but stand there and hold his arms so that he wouldn't rub his tiny eyes with his fists, since both were now covered in glass. He bled from a thousand tiny cuts and his screams were deafening.
I woke up, heart pounding. I couldn't even get up and check on him since melissa had taken him out of the house. After a long time, my heart settled down and I was able to get back to sleep. Dreamless, thankfully.
So, no, I don't miss dreams much at all.