This is a project for each of you who wants to try your hand at dream-telling and/or interpretation. You tell us some of your dreams – good ones or nightmares, and let us in on your own psyche and dreamworld. Interpret it yourself, or give the rest of us out here in the blogosphere a try!
This is Part 1 of a series in which I will describe a particularly cryptic dream that I had last night. It was a dream neither prophetic nor good, nor was it frightening – but it did scare me in its imagery and depress me by its tug on my deepest feelings. Are there any Josephs or Daniels out in my corner of the blogosphere? Open your Bibles to the Old Testament, and read through the brief stories that tell about Joseph and Daniel – two experts at dream interpretation. Since they are no longer around to help me out, perhaps with your help I will discover what this dream means for me. (The narrative of the dream is in bold italics, the background info is in regular type.) So, herewith my dream – the Prologue:
The first few minutes of the dream are great. I am in the company of my closest family (Hubs and sons), and the 6 members of a family with which we used to be very close, but who now live a far distance away from us. The only daughter in this family, Amy, has always been a particular favorite of mine. She is a few years younger than I, but these days, who isn’t? We are mostly out of regular touch, except we were able to connect early in 2010, by phone. Our friendship picked up again almost exactly where we had left off several years ago. She sounds the same, and I long to see her again, and give her a hug. Amy also has three sons, as Hubs and I do, but due to a sad divorce, is raising them by herself. Amy is the sort of person I have always loved being around. She is smart, funny, and genuinely happy. I always feel better when with her. Her parents and three brothers are/were (Amy’s mother and youngest brother have died) wonderful people we have been blessed enough to call our friends. Amy and her Mom, Carole were quite a team. Amy’s gestures, when she talks, are carbon copies of her Mom’s. Her gesturing and speech patterns have become a way to remain in touch with her wonderful Mom. We have something else in common. Both of us lost our mothers to the dreadful disease called “Alzheimer’s.” Unfortunately, we were out of touch when Amy and I could have offered each other mutual support through this “long goodbye.”
All 11 of us take off, walking toward a large city park, with a number of shady picnic spots, as well as a large soccer field, and a olayground designed for younger children. The playground had slides, sand boxes, some teeter-totters, and a “merry-go-round.” The merry-go-round is the sort of equipment that was always my favorite. It’s a large, round (12 ft. diameter) rotating platform, firmly anchored to the ground at its center. Grabbing one of the side rails, before hopping up and on, you get as many people as you can, to run alongside of the MGR pushing the wheel faster and faster. When you get going the fastest you are able, you jump and pull yourself onto the platform and spin along with it. As it starts to slow down a bit, you can use one foot down to the ground to sort of push the MGR up to speed again, and continue spinning as long as you want. You can play on one of these playground favorites all by yourself, but it’s much more fun when shared, and you can get up to a higher speed. Sometimes parents are allowed to help by doing all the pushing. Not exhausted by running and pushing, you can therefore play a much longer time. Always a bonus.
We are all together and laughing the way we always did and have, and each seemed to be enjoying themselves and the company. Being together felt right, as though we were always not only exactly where we wanted to be, but also exactly where we should be. The warmth and happiness was tangible, and I felt it all over and around me. We eventually arrived at the park. I believed that we were all heading together to the soccer field, and I turned to walk to the gate and enter. I had progressed about ½ of the way, and I was busy chattering on. When I noticed I was getting no responses from the group, I turned around and saw that the rest of the group was drifting away from me. I was still close enough for them to hear me as I shouted to know where they were going. Some of them turned to look at me, but none answered, and with a shrug they each headed off in their own directions. I was a bit puzzled, but I turned around to run after Hubs and our eldest son Josh. They never looked back at me; I started to feel abandoned and forgotten. This feeling settled deep into my bones, and an overwhelming sense of loneliness took over .
End of Part 1. Stay tuned for Part 2, in which I relate the search for my family and friends. For now, enough. . .