This post is prompted by
Imagination Prompt Generator:
The question is: "Do you have recurring dreams? What are they about?"
Typically I don't have too much trouble coming up with ideas to talk about. However, as I lay healing in my recliner, I have little to go on. Very, very boring, yet very much needed in this time. So, I averted to this blog prompt.
Anywho; let's get on with it shall we?
This prompt makes me laugh because here is what it takes me back to:
I frequently do have recurring dreams and many a time they revolve around some theme in my life at that time. The most prevalent two recurring dreams I've ever had were in my young childhood; I'm talking before I was 10.
My older sister and I used to have a time getting along. She was as tomboy-ish as a girl could get (aka her dream was to be THE FIRST female hocky player or NFL football player. You know something real boyish along those lines) and I was as sensitive as you could make them (aka cry at the drop of a pin or slightest bit of sarcasm). She was outdoors being rough or playing sports, while I spent my time as alone as ever in the world of books.
This, to me, is the drive behind both dreams - the fact we were not BFF and frequently argued. I will share one of them with you today. Be prepared for length and detail. I still remember it this vividly.
It went a little something like this:
The setting was our families home here in Baton Rouge, LA, we were currently living in (as in we lived there while I had this dream). This house was a rental surrounded by land and just down the road from the levee. Needless to say, just across from us was a ditch that led down from the levee in effort to keep flooding to a minimum during outpourings of rain. The street was lined with trees in its entirety on both sides which made for a nice, straight pathway. My family would frequently take walks or ride our bikes down it.
The dream always began with Lindsey and I standing outside the front door beginning a search for our cat, Ricky. Ricky had been missing for a day or so, which was highly unusual for our friendly animal. Thus we began taking a walk and calling his name.
"Ricky! Here kitty kitty kitty!"
"Ricky where are you!?"
"Ricky, please come home!"
Our lungs screamed and pushed words out as fast as they could. With urgency we scaled the area and continued walking down the street headed towards the levee. The closer to the levee we got, the darker it became. Suddenly, I felt an arm jut out in front to halt me. I looked up at Lindsey's face to see sheer horror plastered across every muscle and widen her eyes. As I looked down to see what had her frozen in place, I began to scream:
"Lindsey! Where did that come from?! Why is there no body with it?"
Down in the ditch, amidst a blood stained the ground were a pair of hands and feet devoid of an attached body and no body near to own them. We were horrified. Our feet were stuck to the pavement as though someone had slapped tar on our shoes and superglued our feet in the shoes. As I remained screaming and Lindsey began hyperventilating, the hands and feet both began to move.
Out of no where, one hand held a shining blade, dripping with blood. Lindsey's will finally allowed her to move, but I remained planted. As Lindsey bolted, I continued to scream for what seemed like hours but could have only been seconds. Not long after Lindsey had begun sprinting did I find my own will to run. As I trailed behind her, the hands and feet began climbing up the ditch.
It seemed as though ages had passed when I finally witnessed Lindsey reach the house and scurry into the door. As I ran up the driveway, I realized the hands and feet had gained on me. I might not make it to the door. Barely breathing, I reached my destination and with angst began attempting to open the door.
My first attempt failed, which I attributed to the panic coursing my vains. So I pulled again. Nothing. It wouldn't budge. The door was
locked. Lindsey had locked me outside of the house.
"Help! SAVE ME! Please someone open the door!!" I yelled. I banged on the door. I yelled some more.
Nothing. As my pacing heart gave in to panic, I turned. Just as I did, the hands and feet, jumped towards me. They quickly did their deed. As that occurred, I would always realize I was a spirit looking over my dead body, wondering why my older sister had locked me out.
I always remember having the thought, "I know she doesn't like me but that much?!" This would come just before I would jolt in my bed.
I was maybe 7 years-old when I had this recurring dream. Horrific, I know. Even worse was that for weeks on end it played over and over only to disturb my nights sleep. After weeks of praying and singing the Steve Green song "When I am afraid" from the
Hide 'Em In Your Heart children's music tape, the dream finally ceased.
I'm sure I will never forget it, but it has been years since it has tormented me. Not that I don't have nightmares anymore, but I certainly have not had a dream where my older sister allowed me to die in over 14 years. I do think it's interesting because in that dream, amongst many others, I have an answer to most people's question: "If you die in your dream do you die in your sleep?" Of course, most people say you can never know, due to the nature of the question.
However, I say you can. I frequently have seen myself die in dreams. Only to wake up and wonder what happened and where I am. Then I become sad because I realize I'm not dead and I'm not in Heaven. Pardon the depressing thought there, but as an alien in this world and a Soldier for Christ, I frequently find myself longing for my true home. SO, when I wake up from a dream where I thought I died to find myself here, it is a little disappointing.
I love my hubby, my family, and friends more than anything. Well, not more than Jesus, or at least I truly aspire to keep Him first in all. But I'm not wishing myself dead because I have no one here. I'm just sad when I dream I have died and find myself awake in this world because I'm not with the Creator of the Universe, the One my heart is made to glorify and worship!
