It’s rare that I have bad dreams that wake me.
But, when I do – wow!
I remember so much about this dream – the setting, faces, smells, situations, voices, words spoken, colors, man, thoughts, age, woman, temperature, children, season, sensations, crying, laughter, anger, loss, discovery, fear, walking, heart pounding…ME.
I find myself searching memories to see if any of it is truly from my past.
The odd thing about dreams is that they tend to weave the past into the present and throw a bit of the hoped-for future into the mix.
The faces, that now begin to fade from my memory, seem to be a mixture of many I know – past and present. Familiar in some way, I attempt a more in depth appraisal of the faces in my dream and find the images morph as I focus on them.
Soon the dream will be only a fuzzy memory, a fleeting sensation of an upsetting early morning awakening. And, then it will be gone. A memory no more, swallowed up in folds of forgetfulness, its place taken by more present and more pressing thoughts.
That leaves me with only one constant – ME.
The truth of that was evident in my dream, and present with me now as I ponder my part in the dream – my decisions and actions that dictated the direction of the dream, and the outcome.
I see similarities between the ME in the dream and the me that sits and types about it. And, I find that to be more disconcerting than the dream itself.
Within every dream there’s a kernel of truth. Dreams are the mind’s way of awakening us to something that needs our attention.
And, this dream that woke me has awakened me to something big that needs my attention now.
Feelings, thoughts and impressions are difficult to capture when there are no words that fit. I feel like a child attempting to describe something I have only a mental image of and my vocabulary does not yet include the descriptive words I need.
Words for ME, right now, would be a box of crayons and a piece of paper. Each color a different word. The color I would begin with…black.
I would give voice to the ME images in my head, tracing them onto paper, coloring them, giving them expression and permission to tell the story of ME that is so evident in the dream – and give a glimpse of the hope-filled me that lies beyond ME.