My Dreams
(at least, the ones I find most intriguing or
worth remembering…)
March, 2008
Can't tell you what it means; it's just the message I got out of my dream.
My "home" was basically outdoors, beside a fast flowing river with quickly moving chunks of ice -- and one very skinny, tall, bare sapling sticking straight out of the flow and going past me very quickly. The world around me was ice crystals, frost and snow. I was barefoot, but not bothered by the cold. My husband told me "the truth is in the ice." And then I walked across an ice and frost-crusted wooden bridge, where a tiny, alien monkey was sitting on the railing. It was about the size of my hand, and had big, round ears. I didn't want it hanging around me while I was sleeping, so I tried to scare it away. I tried to scream "Go away! Get out of here!"
Unfortunately, I "screamed" myself awake -- and my husband, too.
But at least now I know: The truth is not only out there -- it's in the ice!
Autumn, 2005
I was in the center of a large room somewhere, a room you could even call “palatial.” Unfurnished, the room was round in shape, its circumference entirely made up of windows. Yet, though it was daylight, I could see nothing outside. The bright sun was filtered by sheer, white curtains that ran from the ceiling high above me directly to the floor, where extra fabric lay in folds. What drew me to the room, I could not say. Nor could I find an exit.
As I stood at the center, turning in circles, the curtains began to move as though touched by mischievous hands. With each turn I made, I saw more hands pushing at the draperies, though I never saw the figures associated with those hands, just the imprints on the fabric. They were clearly taunting me. Soon a hundred or more unseen souls were whirling around me, pressing their hands against the drapes and leaving impressions in the white fabric, or pulling at the folds and causing the curtains to flutter from a wind that came from within.
Nothing touched me. Nothing spoke to me. There were no voices. The only evidence of other beings there with me came from the marks and the motions of the curtains. Yet I guess I believed there was more to come -- and that belief is what brought about my screams, which woke my husband, who then nudged me, pushing me out of the dreamscape and back into reality.
Later, I looked up dream references to rooms. A comfortable room “signifies opulence and satisfaction in life.” I figure the “palatial” aspect of the room and the brightness of it to possibly, partially, signify this. A “confining room” is said to “denote that you feel trapped or repressed in a situation.” Since the room had no door, and no other visible means of exit, I was, in fact, trapped. Ghosts can “indicate a feeling of disconnection from life and society. This dream may be calling for you to move on and abandon your outdated modes of thinking and behaviour.” So does that mean I’m trapping myself in old modes of thinking, even as I see myself reaching toward some greater satisfaction in life? That the only thing holding me back are my own “ghosts”, links to a past I’m afraid to release?
While the details are not as clear as they were for the room dream, in this one I am outside somewhere, with someone I can’t see, though I can feel him beside me. We are in an urgent situation and need to get away – for reasons unknown. Our only path out is by my presumed ability to teleport us magically into the upper floors of a skyscraper in the distance, literally out in the middle of nowhere – literally “nowhere” because there are no trees, no greenery, no dirt, just “dreamscape” colorless hills and then this tall, rectangular building in the distance. I am terrified of proving to myself that I have this ability my unseen companion is so certain I possess. I close my eyes, and, following his instructions, I focus not on the *act* of moving to the building, but on the simple state of *being* within the building. In other words, I’m concentrating on *being* there, not *going* there. At the instant I know I’ve succeeded, I am too afraid to open my eyes and prove out that success. This is the point at which I woke screaming.
So what does it all mean? That I find myself on the verge of change, and I know it should be a positive change, a change for the better, and yet I’m afraid of what it might mean I’ll have to leave behind? It’s all very odd.
Several years ago, when I last felt the need to shed an old layer of skin in order to grow into a new one, I dreamt of snakes. I walked into the room of a house I had never seen, though it was my house; I knew this in the dream. When I walked into the room, I saw that it was filled with snakes. At that time, prior to experiencing the dream, my fear of snakes might be better described as terror. That dream should have been a nightmare – but it wasn’t. It was a lesson. That dream helped me to realize change was coming. It was time to shed a layer of what I was, to accept a new layer of experience, to grow into a new aspect of what I was meant to become. I walked into that room, unafraid and expectant. I woke out of that dream in the same way.
March, 2001
…and eyes can see … “When a Tree Falls” ~ My dream told by means of a ficlet, as dreamt by Daniel Jackson, Stargate SG-1.
Sam set her breakfast tray on the table and sat down opposite Daniel. She was surprised when he failed to acknowledge her arrival. Nor had he touched his pancakes. Instead he stared at his plate, his thoughts apparently centered on the syrup.
"Daniel? You okay?"
A moment passed before he finally threw her a quick glance. "Hm? Oh. Yeah. Fine."
He picked up his fork and poked at his food.
"You'd better eat up. We've got a long hike ahead of us on P3X-951."
The fork stopped its meandering journey as Daniel came back from his own wandering thoughts. He looked at his teammate, staring now with an intensity that caught Sam off guard.
Deciding against the bite she was about to take, Sam closed her mouth and let her hand fall back to the table, the piece of toast in her grip resting on her plate's edge.
"Sam, have you ever," Daniel looked away briefly, seeming to search for the right words before his eyes met hers once more. "Did you study philosophy?"
Taken further aback by the unexpected question, Sam hesitated. "Well, yeah. I had a class back in my freshman year."
Daniel smiled. "You know that old adage "if a tree falls in the forest and there's no one there to hear it, does it still make a noise?'"
Sam smiled back. "That's why I could never appreciate philosophy. I mean, come on! Just because no one hears something, doesn't mean there's no sound. Sound waves...."
"Yeah," Daniel interrupted her physics lesson. "Yeah, I know. But...." He fell back into his thoughts, his eyes distant once more. "I had the strangest dream."
Sam decided to give up on trying to eat. This conversation was a puzzle. And she had never been able to "walk away" when there was a puzzle to solve. She set her fork on the table and rested her chin in her hands, waiting for Daniel to continue.
"I was in a house somewhere, sitting at a table. I got dizzy or something, and lost my balance. Then I saw it wasn't just me. I looked around and noticed other things in the house were leaning in one direction. I stood up and went to the window, but every step was a struggle. Something seemed to be pulling at me. When I looked outside, every tree, every bush, everything was leaning toward the end of this long, neighborhood street."
He looked at her. "You remember when the gate was linked to a black hole?"
Sam nodded. "Of course, that was P...."
"It was like that. Like we were being pulled into a black hole."
He looked away again. "I went outside, and everyone was running in the opposite direction, away from the... event. I knew it was useless, but I ran, too. Left the door to the house wide open, and just started running."
"Then there was this enormous flock of birds overhead. Big birds." He smiled, shaking his head as he remembered the bizarre image. "Very, very big birds. Mostly geese and giant, white doves." He stretched his arms wide in an effort to show Sam the absurd size of the doves.
He shook his head again. The smile died away. He dropped his hands back to the table.
"They were flying towards the pull, not away from it. I reached for one of the doves," his eyes focused upward, one hand rising as though the flock was still above him. "Somehow I knew why they were there. And they knew why I was there.
"I reached up to let the dove grab hold of me, and it took me to a place where I could state a case to save humanity. Imagine that. I was humanity's lawyer." He shot Sam an embarrassed grin, then, sighing, continued his tale.
"I never saw the entity I was speaking to. But I claimed that humanity was worth saving because of the beauty that would otherwise be eternally lost. I mentioned the music of Mozart and Beethoven, and the works of Shakespeare and other literature I can't quite remember now. Then I quoted from the sonnet, 'shall I compare thee to a summer's day... ' I repeated the last couplet several times, and woke up with those words still on my mind."
He cast his eyes upward once more, as he recited the couplet. "'So long as men can breathe and eyes can see, so long lives this and this gives life to thee'."
A prolonged moment of silence left Sam even more uncomfortable than Daniel's description of his dream. "Wow," she said trying to bridge the discomfort.
Another moment passed before Daniel recited the couplet again. "'So long as men can breathe and eyes can see, so long lives this and this gives life to thee'." He smiled at Sam. "I'm pretty sure that won my case."
"I don't understand."
"If humanity is lost, can God exist?"
"Well, if you're a religious person then yes, of course. According to the premise of most religions. I mean, religions tend to prophesize Armageddon, right? What you dreamed could be a version of Armageddon."
"That's where philosophy comes in. If the tree falls but there are no ears to hear it, can you still call what results a 'sound'?" Daniel did not give Sam a chance to answer. "In that vein, art often exists as a means to define God, or a godlike entity. If suddenly the earth was destroyed, if humanity was lost and all its artwork vanished, then there would be nothing left to define that entity; so, in essence, having lost its definition that entity could also cease to exist. When I repeated that couplet in my dream, the entity judging me... judging us... knew I was right, that it too would cease to exist."
Sam shook her head. "I'm sorry, Daniel. But I just don't get your argument. A religious person would say God exists no matter what, even if this whole universe was lost. And to say a sound wouldn't exist if no one could hear it.... I mean, that's just ridiculous.
That would be like saying...." She looked forlornly at her plate. "Like saying these eggs wouldn't be cold if I weren't here to notice."
Daniel's grin now was one of patient acceptance. Sam could talk with him for hours about history, archeology, anthropology or any number of his unique interests, but philosophy was one area she simply could not fathom. It was clear he was as aware of that fact as she was.
She smiled back, and shrugged. "I never did get philosophy. But that was some dream."
"Yeah."
"Don't try to analyze it too deeply, Daniel. Dreams are just your brain's way of calibrating itself."
"Yeah."
She wasn't reaching him. "Although sometimes they can also say something about your own beliefs, things you've given thought to, whether on a conscious or subconscious level."
"Sometimes." He nodded slowly in agreement.
"Hey, kids."
Sam started at the sound of the colonel's voice behind her.
"Time to suit up." He peered down at the full, untouched plates on the table. "It's a little late to be starting breakfast."
"Yes, Sir," Sam replied. "We were talking."
"Talking?"
"Talking." Daniel repeated.
"What about?" Jack motioned towards Sam's toast. He waited politely for her nod before snatching it up.
"Philosophy," Daniel offered at the same time as Sam's "Dreams'.
Jack studied them both curiously. Then, apparently not wanting to broach either subject, he cleared his throat. "Time to suit up," he said again, inclining his head towards the door. "Let's move out."
"Yes, Sir." Grateful for the rescue, Sam was quick to obey. She was half-way to the door when she heard the colonel speaking softly to Daniel.
"So, was Sam dreaming about me again?"
Fire rising to her cheeks, Sam had to remind herself Jack was her CO. Yet even that fact might not have mattered had General Hammond not happened by just then. This was neither the time nor the place for her to turn back and confront her teammates. She gave the general a cautious greeting, then picked up her pace and hurried from the room.
Later, as they moved toward the event horizon en route to P3X-951, Sam caught Daniel's eye, recognizing his unique, lonely smile. That dream was going to haunt him, yet there was nothing she could say to guide him past it. Nor could the colonel. Neither of them could think quite like Daniel Jackson when it came to things like that dream.
When Teal'c stepped between her and Daniel, Sam sighed in amazement. Teal'c! That was who Daniel needed to speak with! How had she not considered him before?
Shaking her head in relief, she realized - not for the first time - how fortunate they were to have each other. SG-1 was comprised of four extremely unique individuals, each one uniquely qualified to help the others through difficult times. This might not exactly be a difficult time, but soundless crashes in the forest, giant, white doves and Shakespeare sonnets? She would be more than happy to let Teal'c field this one.
<The End>
198?
So I'm sitting here watching some show about alien abductions, and I am reminded of yet another bizarre dream. This dream occurred just once, waaayyyyy back in the early 80s. Back then I was a college student, thriving on very little sleep. I lived at home and commuted to school every day, which was about 30 minutes each way (if you don't count the snow storm that turned my short drive into 2 hours of hell). I also worked, selling shoes at the local mall. When I wasn't in school or working, I was studying or finishing art projects (since my degree was in fine arts and liberal arts [English]). In between school and work, I would often try to steal a nap here or there. The problem with that was I always knew my time for napping was limited; I rarely achieved any sort of true, restful sleep because I was afraid I wouldn't wake up in time. It was at during those busy years that I had my first "waking dream," my own term for describing dreams encountered when you think you're awake but in reality you are deep in REM sleep and immobilized by sleep paralysis. I've had such dreams on and off over the years, most recently it was while traveling and I was utterly paralyzed while I watched the shadow of a man standing over my bed; the only thing I could do was scream myself awake right at the moment he *fell* on top of me <shudders>. Now *that* was one creepy dream!
But <ahem> that is not the dream I intended to tell today. And as with the one with the shadow man, this particular dream also did not occur during an afternoon nap. This one happened at night, when you're supposed to be in bed, and I was, in fact, in bed. But was I awake? You tell me....
I remember this distinctly -- very, very distinctly -- despite the passage of time. Why? Because it was *so* real-seeming and *so* frightening, and so much like the story an alien abductee might tell -- although in the dream I was not abducted. Instead, I was scanned...
I was in bed when I heard a noise at the side door which led to the kitchen. The sound made me nervous, and caused me to listen very closely. I listened all right. I heard a beeping sound, in a very regular pattern. A metronome couldn't keep better time. I heard this beep-beep-beep change in volume, but the changes were subtle, and they cued me into the fact that this beeping thing had entered in through the side door and was moving its way through the kitchen.
Beep-beep-beep-beep...
I heard it moving into the hallway.
Beep-beep-beep-beep...
I heard it enter my parents' room, just across the hall from mine.
Beep-beep-beep-beep...
I heard it leave my parents' room and move back into the hallway.
Beep-beep-beep-beep...
And then, horror of horrors, I heard it enter my room.
Beep-beep-beep-beep...
I remember being completely immobilized, but it felt like I was forcing my eyelids shut. I wanted whatever it was to think I was asleep; but I was sure both my scrunched eyelids and my irregular breathing would cue it into the fact that I was only faking.
It stayed by my bedside for a couple of seconds.
Beep-beep-beep-beep...
And then it moved away. I heard it slowly beeping its way back down the hall, back through the kitchen, and once again out through the side door.
I remember lying in bed, waiting to hear strange sounds outside, and then when nothing more happened, trying to force myself to believe it was all a dream. I also remember trying to find out if anyone in the neighborhood had seen or heard anything strange that night. No one had.
So was I an alien abductee reject? Or just an overworked college student? ;-)
Yeah. I remember that one. Never will forget it, I'm sure.