Tag Archives: dreams

Dreams

Last night my sleep was restless and dream filled.  In one there were shadows and people I didn’t know, lurking, watching.  I was helping a few people clean up a restaurant maybe.  I put my purse over the back of a chair while I worked.  When I do this I think ‘don’t forget it.’  It was a nice time even with the shadows.  In another there was a ride in a car. I was in the back with someone and a women, I don’t think I know, is driving.  I know the others in the car.  They are all women. The driver who has thick curly hair is laughing and enjoying herself, but driving too fast.  Then the road is covered in snow and I become frightened.  We are flagged to slow down.  The person, a woman, flagging us yells there is ice under the snow and we come to a full, adrupt stop.  Everyone gets out of the car except me.  I don’t have my shoes on.  I can’t find my purse.  I left it in the restaurant of the first dream.  I am sure I did and am embarrassed to tell everyone that we must go back.

These two dreams are at least three hours apart.  They can’t be the same dream.  If they aren’t the same dream what is the connection that my purse is in both dreams?  I have always understood that your dreams are about sorting through things that happen; impressions that you have had during the period of time since the last dream.  That the underlying feelings you have in the dream are an emotional gauge; how you are feeling at the time.  Your mind weaves the impressions together with the feelings and you have a seeming cohesive dream.

Eating in restaurants, having many strangers around me, fear of forgetting my purse and having almost daily close calls while driving are common themes for my days here.  So for them to be a part of my dream I can readily understand.  To look to all the feelings, for me, is the interesting part of this dream.  While in the restaurant helping I felt hungry and happy.  Hungry because I am trying to loose another kilo (2.2 pounds) and am always hungry, probably while sleeping also.  Happy, I was helping someone and it felt satisfying to be useful.  I am on my way to Patty’s this next week and I love being useful to her while there.  The anxiety in the car is the same anxiety that follows me around the week before I travel.  Every time.

You all know I travel a lot.  I fly most trips.  JarieLyn asked me today if I fear flying.  I don’t think that is it as I have the same anxiety when we go by train.  I fear being late to the airport.  I fear forgetting something I need.  I fear not being able to find space in the overhead bins.   I fear my bags won’t arrive.  I am just anxious.  Then the moment I am walking onto the plane it is gone.  Where does it come from, where does it go.  Every time.

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My Dream World

If the eyes are the mirror to the soul, then dreams must be a conduit to a magical world where the soul dances freely without inhibition. I know through my own experience that dreamland is a stage filled with adventure where my character has a starring role. More often than not, my dreams are full of emotion where I express love and/or receive love from another. They are usually joyous and upon awakening, I linger in bed so that I can savor the images and carry the emotion with me throughout the day. I love the little flashbacks I get when I’m going about my day and I am busy with life. It’s a reminder to smile and feel the love that touched me during sleep.

There are times, however, when the dreams are less joyous and upon awakening, the images hover over me like a dark cloud. They follow me through the years like an obsessive stalker, threatening me, making me fearful that the fantasy will turn to reality. It’s hard to determine whether these dreams are precognitive or if they are just a reflection of my negativity at the time. I’ve had several of these dreams and the images are as vivid as the day I dreamed them. In one such dream, I am in my car, just leaving my office. I am driving across the parking lot and suddenly there is a spray of gunfire coming from various directions. It is the gangs who live in the neighborhood. I am extremely afraid and I duck down in my car, still accellerating on the gas. Then I am floating above and I look downward and I can see myself. I notice that my hair on the back of my head looks all matted and then I realize that I have been shot. I can see the blood and when my spirit realizes I have been shot, I am pulled back into my body. My heart is pounding really hard and it feels like it is going to explode out of my chest. I can’t see where I’m going but I keep thinking that I can make it to the hospital if I just keep going. I’m telling myself to just get out of the parking lot. Then I wake up and I am so sure that it is a warning. This dream caused me to be afraid to go to the office. It got to where I would hardly go in. I started taking all my work home, eventually, moving all of my stuff to my home and then quitting my business altogether. This dream still haunts me today and somewhere deep down inside I am fearful that I am going to be shot in the head either accidentally or by some crazed lunatic seeking a thrill kill.

But then there are the dreams that deliver messages of support and guidance from deceased loved ones. These are the dreams that leave an imprint on my heart and give me comfort when I feel my inner light start to dim. One such dream occurred When my husband and I first moved to Las Vegas. I was an unhappy, lost soul. My marriage was kind of rocky at the time and I felt like a total loser. I didn’t know what to do and I was experiencing such despair and loneliness. I had written in my diary how much I wanted to find a good job, and how much I wished that I could be more ambitious, less insecure, more successful and on and on. I was really having a pity party inside my journal. That night, after writing in my journal, while I lay sleeping, I received a visitor from the other side. It was my Papaw, my favorite person in the whole world and whom I missed so very much. He came to me on the familiar three wheeler that he named putt putt. I hopped on behind him and held onto him as he gave me a ride and we laughed and laughed. I knew he was dead, yet, I didn’t question how it was possible that we were riding around on the motorized three wheeler. In the next scene we are standing. He takes my hand in his and tells me not to worry that everything is going to be all right. I feel extremely sad, because I don’t want him to go and I am aware that he is leaving. Tears stream down my face and he disappears. I awake and I can still feel the flesh of his hand in mine and I know that things are going to be okay. I knew in my soul that it was more than a dream. This isn’t the first time he’s visited me, but as of today, it would be his last. That was almost fourteen years ago and I remember it like it was yesterday. And you know what? He was right. Things turned out very good for me. My life fell into place after that visit. Maybe he didn’t think I needed him anymore and that’s why he hasn’t visited me again. Oh, but how I do still need him to tell me things will be okay.

I recall my dreams quite often. My husband, on the other hand, rarely remembers his at all. He thinks he doesn’t dream but I know better. My favorite dreams have a recurring theme and I’ve been having them for about twelve or thirteen years. I am always happy and in love. Each dream is different but the characters are the same. Sometimes I feel like my real life is trapped inside that dream and the life that the world sees is an imposter. Really, how do we know that life isn’t just one big dream and that reality doesn’t really exist? I know, it’s far fetching but it is food for thought. Anyhow, I’ll end this post now so I can go find my reality in my dreams.


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