DREAMS

Dreams, one of those 'lovely intangibles' I spoke of in the opening section of 'About This Site'. For hundreds of years, people have been made wealthy off of other people's nightmares and dreams. Rumor has it that much of Stephen King's work is based on his own dream-state. (The horrors that must slumber in that pillow!) My own dreams aren't quite so lucrative.

When I was a teen, I would waken and realize 'something' happened during the night that I never could pinpoint once fully awake. I put a tablet and pencil beside the bed and began jotting down any scrap I could recall about a dream, or a thought that I might have had just before I woke. I realized I could control the pattern so that I forced myself to wake up long enough to write a note or two then drift back off again. How I wish I'd kept those notes! But it did give me the good habit of remembering my dreams.

An old wive's tale declares that if you tell you dream before breakfast it will come true. Maybe that was their way of recalling special dreams. But, most of the time, we aren't quite ready to have our dreams come true.

I very distinctly recall dreaming in Spanish, only it was mixed with garbled English so that I could (almost) understand what was being said to me. Years later I was talking to some friends in Belize and realized that was the conversation I'd had 15 years prior in my own dream! Yes, I think our brain does drift off toward the future when we allow ourselves to dream. Maybe it's an unconscious pattern shift in our lives that we allow certain things to occur to make those dreams happen, but many times I wake from a dream state to the feeling something is happening, or about to happen.

Voodoo dreaming

The most noticeable (and spookiest) was a vivid dream I had while in Belize City. In Houston, we had friends who stayed with us for awhile. They had a Doberman who was a well-mannered house dog. She would shake her collar tags during the night if she needed to go outside. I was the lightest sleeper of the group so I usually was the one she'd 'ask' to let her out. Stumbling, grumbling toward the door, I'd put her outside and mumble off to bed again.

When we made one driving trip to Belize, they wanted to take the dog also. Against better judgement we allowed room for her in the Suburban. She caused no trouble and came in handy when a guard was needed. After our arrival, we wanted to tour the country and relieve our hosts of 'hostess duty' for a little while. Knowing there would be boating and diving excursions, they agreed to keep the dog with them.

While in Belize City, friends had decided to go out on the town and I, suffering from a sunburn, opted to go back to the hotel for an early evening. Sometime during the night, that familiar collar woke me up!

I thunked into the wall, thinking it was the doorway to my own home. Woke myself up and laughed at the silly 'dream'that made me think the dog needed to go out. But I felt very uneasy the next day. I related the story to the group and they all decided it was unusual, but probably from the sunburn.

We went on with our trip, but there was an underlying sense of apprehension. By the time we returned to the villa, I was shaking. I knew the dog was dead. Her owner picked up on my mood and leaped out of the truck, calling for the dog. Everyone else got out to help but I just sat there with tears streaming down my face. He wouldn't find her.

Sure enough, our host explained that she had teased his own guard dogs into fighting her. She used the Land Rover as 'safe net', but they caught her away from it and attacked her. I described my dream and the time it happened and his eyes widened. Yes, that was about the time he had to shoot her and bury her. Belize is a land of the mystical, and rumor abounded about 'Da Voodoo Gringa'. The sight of their cougar calmly accepting me accentuated that particular rumor as well.

There are a number of people who were involved with the sequence of events and can tell you it's all true. But none of us will know the why of what happened that night. Did the dog come to me to tell me Good Bye?

The Tie That Binds, (dealing in death)

When my parents both died, similar instances came to me in dreams. My Dad battled cancer for many years and, finally, in Intensive Care, he fought his last battle. We joined that horror of waiting room ghouls, only leaving to eat or go home to try to rest for a few hours between allowed visits to his ward. Finally, I went home to catch up on laundry and try to nap. Something heady woke me up only a few minutes after I dozed off! I felt like I was smothering in flower bouquets. Wonderful heavy sweet flowers seemed to fill the room! Intoxicated but alarmed, I tossed my stuff in the car and raced to the hospital. At the ground floor elevators, I met my Aunt and we cried and clung to each other. Both of us had received that same scent! We both knew it was my father's passing. Now, even 20 years later, on the farm, (his farm) every now and then, I'll get a whiff of something wildly floral.

Approval? A visit? I have no idea but I have to think it is a part of a dream sequence that keeps me in tune with a world not of my making.

My dream for my mother was much less defined. She was living with my aunt about 60 miles from us when I kept having disturbing dreams about birds. As I raised small exotic birds at the time, I was pretty sure it was due to a problem with them. Crows and owls especially kept me occupied during my sleep.

Mother was failing. No one knew exactly why but her body was shutting down. She lived on an oxygen concentrator and finally was completely bedridden. When I went to stay with her, my dreams became even more vivid and disturbing. Black shadowy birds waiting on the lawn. The oxygen therapy was no longer effective, her lungs like sponges, the ambulance came to take her to the hospital. Looking up at the big oak's bleak limbs, I watched an owl calmly looking down on us. Was I reading more into this than was really there, or was this a messanger calling her home? She lived a few more hours but the agreement was there would be no life-support. So, she was just 'made comfortable'. The intern came out with tears welling in his eyes. "She's gone. She sat up and held my hand and asked 'Do you know my Jesus?' then left us." Her passing was expected, and perhaps the bird connection was just the way my brain had to deal with it. But I never would have connected the owl with death if I had not been dreaming about them.

Lately, I've been dreaming again. I've had a recurring dream of a small yellow horse. She's an odd color; more mustard than dun, and in poor condition. That 'spark' has left her eye. I know (sorry, John) that when I see her, I'll try to own her, even though I swore off horses years ago!

I firmly believe that dreams happen when we are not there to chaperone the direction that our minds take. John admits that he doesn't dream. I think he does, but his sensible, pragmatic brain won't allow him to recall chasing stardust or dancing in the moonbeams! For my 'normal' dream state, I'm always going somewhere. I rarely know where, but it certainly has kept the waking wanderlust at bay. I dream in full, glorious, saturated color and to beautiful 'classical' music of my own design. Not normally a fan of the classical, but this is a peaceful interlude that begins just before the rest of myself has shut down. I have the feeling that when I hear this music in my waking state, I'll begin to prepare for my own permanent trek to the interior.