These dreams…

Hell by M.C. Escher

When I dream, I DREAM. I can fly, I can speak in strange and wonderful languages, I  have superhuman powers, I can become young again, and I can predict the future.

I can serialize my dreams. If I find one I particularly enjoy, I can go to sleep and rejoin that life of my own making, right where I left off the night before.

I often wonder if people who are in comas, dream. Do they live on in another world, another dimension, as if their bodies are whole and well. Do they have other families, other loves, other children? Is that what keeps them in their state of suspended animation? That the new life they are in is the life they want to belong in, is one they want more than the one they left.

My dreams can be intensely real. I see colors more vividly, hear sounds more clearly, feel more deeply.

Some of my most disjointed dreams, ones that flick from scene to scene, are full of images that I know must mean something.  In these dream ~ fully conscious of the fact that I am in a dream ~ I try to interpret what the people, the messages, are saying to me.

I told about a dream I once had about Hubs, years before I met him. I’ve had another dream that was like that one. I believe I know what it meant, now it’s just a waiting game to find out if I was right.

As in the dream about Hubs, I was only an observer. Again, I was in a black space, a spot light illuminating a large bed. In this bed were my family. My dad, my mom and my brother. My mom’s parents were also there. Unlike the dream I had about my future husband, I had no VOICE to tell me what I saw, or what it meant.

In this bed, as I stood to one side, closest to me I saw my mother lying between her parents (who had both passed away only months eariler). They were holding her as if she were still a baby, and the three of them were not completely asleep. They were barely into that state of slumber where they could still be wakened easily.

Beside them lay my brother. Asleep more deeply than my mother, but with effort he could be roused.

At the far side, slept my father. Deep asleep, so deep that I could not waken him.

The message that I drew from this was that somehow I was being shown the order in which my family would die. What was unclear was whether my mother or father would be the first to leave this world. But that was not what I was brought there to see.

No, the knowledge that was given to me was that one of my parents would out live one of their children. I was also aware that the telling of this knowledge would not change the future. Is my purpose then to prepare my parents, somehow imparting to them to make the most of their lives, to make whatever peace they need to, so that the surviving one can go on? Or was it to tell me I had little time to make my own peace with my brother?

These dreams go on when I close my eyes
Every second of the night I live another life
These dreams that sleep when it’s cold outside
Every moment I’m awake the further I’m away