Dreamcatcher

If you’ve been reading my blog a while, it will come as no surprise to you that I’m a dreamer.  Not in the delusions of grandeur sense, but in the nighttime Brain-a-Vision sense. 

They’re in sentient, Technicolor, full of sounds, smells, and sensations.  I feel breezes on my face, taste salty sea air, sense the biting cold of snowflakes as they bounce off my nose, recoil from terrors, and sigh with relief as my bare feet transition from crunchy fall leaves to smooth cool grass.

They’re either remembered fleetingly, with bits and pieces coming back over the course of days or weeks or months, or they fill my conscious mind and alter my perception of reality. 

I usually enjoy my dreams. Sometimes I fear them. But I’m always glad when they don’t leave me because I believe that dreams are our subconscious mind trying to make sense of something that is happening during our waking hours.  An unsolved mystery, if you will, and I love trying to make the connection.

I used to keep a log of my dreams, on my computer, without a back up (yeah, I know), until it crashed years ago, sending most of the reruns and favorite scenes diligently recorded from my Brain-a-Vision right into oblivion, never to be recovered.  A few remain, noted on various papers strewn throughout drawers and journals.  A few remain in my mind, having impacted me so greatly that there is an interminable link between me and my unsolved mystery.  

I’ve written about my dreams before. That’s another post. But, pull up a chair, grab some popcorn, and let’s binge the latest episodes.

*** 

2021

Have nightmares have become reality? 

Or has reality become a nightmare? 

A little of both, honestly. 

The latest recurring dream series is about dog-rescuing. So many I can't even recount them all. Big dogs. Small dogs. My dogs. Others' dogs. Water. Fire. Neglected. Lost. Injured. Happy. I save them all. I may have missed my calling as a veterinarian. 

Dave and I woke up while on a business trip and had both dreamt the night before about the same coworker of his (who wasn't even on the trip). Mine involved a speeding motorhome, horrific car crash, body, nay projectile, and laying next to a severely injured guy. I may have missed my calling as an EMT.

Before

Dreams that seem a lifetime ago, but so fresh 

they could have happened last night. 

But they didn't. They happened a lifetime ago.

A couple of nights ago, I had a very intense dream that involved the sense of loss in various ways – I couldn’t find my way somewhere, I couldn’t find my family, I couldn’t save my daughter. When I woke up in the morning, I quickly sent myself an email at work with some key points, determined that it was so vivid in my mind I would surely remember it in great detail once I had these reminders.

·       Train

·       Sarah with friend

·       Beach chair

·       Soccer field

·       Dave with friends

·       Sarah died

·       Redo - stayed close, laid on her and talked to her until she regained consciousness

So, about 3 hours later, when I arrived at the office, I read my cryptic note . . . and had zero recollection. Well, maybe one recollection. I could remember sitting on Sarah, wiping her hair back from her life- and colorless face, whisper-crying to “hold on, I’m here, mama loves you, come back to me”. She did. And then I woke up.

July 2017-July 2018 ~ There have probably been dreams happening, but I don’t remember them. Hmmm . . . that seems to be a pattern. Actually there were a few that I remember, but I don't know the dates. Which probably doesn't matter, anyway. Anyway . . .

A red ribbon tied around the footpost of the bed on Dave's side, flapping in the wind.

A 30+ legged spiderlike creature crawling rapidly toward me across Dave's pillow. I literally jumped up, grabbed another pillow, and smacked the one it was crawling on. Thankfully, Dave's head was not yet on said pillow.

Lots of really intricate, detailed, colorful ones that I now cannot recall. **sigh**

7/3/17 - There was a piece of indecipherable exercise equipment in my dream-work lunch room. The lunch room sat atop the workspace on a loft of sorts with white metal railings that had horizontal bars all around it. As I was circling around the equipment, I noticed that my cousin, Jennifer, was seated at a lunch room table, next to a counter with a sink and a refrigerator. She weighed an unrealistic 350+ pounds and was eating while talking on her cell phone. I walked over to her and opened the refrigerator door, and was suddenly standing in a neighborhood much like those I grew up in. Evergreens towered above me. The ground was soft and spongy with their fallen and decaying needles. The air was cool and damp, and had a strong undercurrent of pine and earth. As I stood, trying to figure out where I was and how I had come to be there, I heard a loud diesel engine coming down the rural road. I could not see it as the road curved ahead of me, but I soon saw a long, yellow school bus barreling down the road, kicking up mud and debris, seeming very much out of control. But, the driver was determined, very much in control, and made a quick turn to the right just as he approached me, turning up a hill and continuing further into the neighborhood. I ran behind him and heard what could only be construed as a screeching halt, although there was not screeching because of the natural materials that the road consisted of, or was covered by. As I approached, the bus teetered from its sudden stop and the doors opened with a whoosh of air and squeak-slam of the metal release arm inside. The driver ran down the stairs and began shooting a huge automatic shotgun into what had become the town square and schoolyard. And then I woke up.

6/16/17 - As I sat on a ragged sofa in a hoarder’s house which, in my dream, belonged to one of my husband’s employees, I noticed that Sarah, seated next to me, had a baby rabbit, cat, and bird crawling around on her as if they were her pets. There were two huge dogs in the house – their backs reaching at least my hips – one grey and short-haired with the boxy face of a pit bull of some sort, the other brown and otherwise indistinguishable. I warned Sarah that it wasn’t safe to let the babies just run around like that when the dogs were around. She put them on the floor of the kitchen, which was equally as filthy and disgusting as the other one with the couch (let’s call it the living room), reeking of rotten food, with thick sticky grime on the floor and dishes and trash tumbling from the counters. I tried to pick them up but they wriggled free, small and fast. Finally, I decided the best course of action was to put the dogs in the back yard, so I crossed through the living room, which was long and narrow and had a door at the back with a glass panel at the top. The dogs followed me happily outside, jumping and prancing around like small ponies, puppies in big-dog bodies. As I closed the door behind them, they realized they were being put outside without human companionship, and became very upset and aggressive. With a running start, they launched into the air, teeth bared, jowls dripping, and jumped right through the door, passing through what was previously glass but was now just open. We all ran from the room and out the front door, the dogs following close behind, barking and running, but not angry anymore now that they were with us. The front door led into a brightly-lit cul-de-sac, in the circle of which this house sat. There were dirty barefooted children playing in the streets, their clothes ripped and missing, their hair tousled and, undoubtedly, weeks from having seen a brush or shampoo. Outside the house was an equally long and narrow carport of sorts, equally rot with one-man’s-trash ~ unwashed clothes, rancid food and garbage strewn about haphazardly, making walking difficult and nose-breathing impossible, yet the taste from the stagnant air flowing through your mouth caused dry heaves. As I carefully stepped among and between another-man’s- treasures, finding barely enough concrete to land a toe on, I realized that the mound of debris was moving. Writhing. Scurrying. Undulating. It was alive. They were alive. Hundreds of baby animals, mostly cats, some rabbits, some birds, were trying in vain to reach a nipple, any nipple, and fill their tiny bellies. Their eyes were crusted closed. Their mouths were filled with gummy slime that barely allowed them to open them and make the tiniest mews or squeaks or peeps. I picked up a kitten (a rabbit kitten, not a cat kitten), and realized that its long skinny body was tangled up in line of some sort, fishing line or dental floss or thin twine. I was trying to unwrap it but realized that, as I un-looped it from one miniature, hairless foot, it cinched tighter around a hip. As I loosened a part crossing over its face, its belly became more securely entwined. And then I woke up.

6/3/17 - I was in a house that I was supposed to be in, when I suddenly noticed a woman seated in a chair on the other side of an interior window, like you might find between rooms. I knew instantly that she was a ghost. I ran to the window and pounded on it, flat-palmed, yelling for her to go away, get out, leave us alone. She turned and looked at me, and then I woke up to Dave calling my name to rouse me from a deep and noisy sleep.

5/20/17 ~ On my way home from . . . hmmm . . . somewhere, I drove through a maze of streets in an area that was mostly gravel and cement. Very little foliage could be seen anywhere. It was dusty and hot and very grey. It was my neighborhood (not the real one, just the dream one). On the sidewalk, I saw a small, white dog plodding along. Naturally, I stopped to pick her up. Ever the dog rescuer, even in my dreams. I called the number on her tag and a man answered. As soon as I got halfway through my sentence, “Hi, My name is Sharon and I have your . . . “ He interjected, ‘Oh, no. Did she get out again?’ . . . “dog.”

     Me: I noticed that the phone number has a long-distance area code.

     Guy: Yes, we just moved here.

     Me: Well, welcome. Give me your address and I’ll bring her back to you.

He told me his address and explained that it was at the very top of the hill in the area with lots of unfinished houses.

     Guy: It’s gated. It will cost you $18 to get in.

     Me: . . .

     Me:   Yeah, I’m not paying $18 to bring your dog back. Here’s my address. She’ll be at my               house.

And then I woke up.

May 2016-May 2017 ~ There have probably been dreams happening, but I don’t remember them.

5/14/16 ~ I woke up to see who I thought was Dave, sitting at the foot of the bed on his side, facing the pillows, with his right leg bent at the knee and resting on the bed, and his left leg hanging down to the floor.  He was leaning on his straight right arm, with his left in his lap. I sat up and said, ‘What are you doing?’ Suddenly, he changed from Dave to a stranger, with thinning and disheveled strawberry-blonde hair, a pocked face, and a wicked grin. He stared back, unflinching. I repeated my question. Then I got out of bed and stood tall, asking once again. Finally, I heard Dave calling my name and asking if I was okay, and I woke up, standing beside the bed, then crawled back under the covers and went promptly back to sleep.  He asked in the morning if I remembered, which I didn’t until later in the day, and said that I was yelling the question frantically. The room was pitch black, and he was terrified that there was someone in the room that I was fighting off. I’m sure he was grateful when I woke up.

4/30/16 ~ Mante visited me in my dreams 2 weeks after he passed.  Apparently it doesn’t take as long for fur-baby souls to cross back and visit their loved ones as it does for human souls.

I was supposed to go to the emergency vet clinic to pick up his little paw print while I was out running errands that day, but was too tired and decided to go home and take a nap instead. 

In my dream, I was getting ready to let Cooper out onto the front porch. We have a solid wood front door but, as I approached to open it, I could clearly see Mante standing looking in, with his front feet on the door jam. I was so happy to see him and just wanted to open the door and love him. But I knew somehow that he would disappear as soon as I opened the door. I waited a moment before I did and, sure enough, he wasn’t there anymore.

Maybe I was feeling guilty for not picking up his little memorial. You can bet we went to get it the next day, though! Regardless of the reason, I was happy to see his cute little face again.

I miss him.

3/2/16 ~ I don't move when I dream. Well, that's not true. One time I punched Dave. And sometimes I thrash around and scream. Not scream, exactly, but more like make weird, low-pitched moans, like you would expect to be emanating from this group of tortured souls . . . 

But, none of my movements or sounds match what is actually happening in my dreams.  In my dreams, I'm making high, loud, Hitchcock-esque dainty, girly screams.  In my dreams, I'm . . . well, sounding more like a locked up zombie.  In my dreams, I'm walking down quiet paths, dancing under moonlight - no, wait, those are the dreams I want to have, not the dreams I've been dealt in my own personal brain-a-vision.  My dreams usually involve ducking and dodging, running down dark hallways, hiding in closets, or abandoned cars, or behind trash dumpsters, swinging large spikey objects, crawling over fallen logs and through rivers to escape whatever hellish demon is chasing me. But I'm not actually doing those things. . . until last night.

Last night, laying on my back, I dreamt that someone/thing was straddling me in my bed, on all fours like it was crawling but with its front arms/legs on either side of my chest, its face very close to my own. It was unlike anything I'd seem. Human-like, werewolf-like, doglike. More skin than fur. Long lean limbs. Hands eerily similar to the one that scratched my back a few weeks ago, but brown. I stealthily slithered out from under it, leaving it looking over its shoulder, still on all fours, as I fell to the floor and ran full bore to the bedroom door opening it with a frenzied rush. As I did, I woke up. I had literally fallen from bed, run through my room, and thrown open the door. But I didn't wake up until then. The physical movement had taken place during sleep. That's new for me.

Poor Dave and Brian were still awake, watching TV in the family room, and heard the ruckus wondering what the heck was going on. As I flung the door open, they asked if I was okay and, as I awoke - realistically from seeing the room light and hearing Dave's voice - sighed, 'Jeez', and said, 'Yes, I'm okay.'  I walked back to bed, leaving the bedroom door open, and laid in bed awhile before finally falling back to sleep to the sound of my cute boys laughing hysterically to 'It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia.' 

2/26/16 ~ I saw a ghost last night. I rolled over toward the middle of the bed during the night and had a vision of a long-nailed, bony-fingered hand reaching up from under my bed and scratching down the length of my back. 

I turned over really fast and saw a tall, dark figure leaning cross-armed against my door jam. I stared and stared, trying to identify who or what it was. Suddenly, a police badge glimmered in the dim light and I saw the briefest flash of Doug Barney's face. I knew he was there to protect me, felt totally safe, and fell deeply back to sleep. 

Sometime in mid-February ~ Two large dogs (Great Danes or big Labs maybe? One black, one tan) were running through the neighborhood we lived in (not our real-life neighborhood, nor any we've ever had), After realizing they belonged to our neighbor, I and whomever was with me tried to chase them down. They were battered and frantic, and would not come to us, but were darting in between homes, fences, and yards. Then I saw the neighbor (a heavy-set red-headed lady driving a white minivan) backing out of her driveway and she just waved out her window and said Thank you! Regardless, I kept trying to catch the dogs. A few minutes later, I got a call on my cell phone from the neighbor telling me that, after I caught them, I had to be sure they got their medicine, and started barking (no pun intended) all of these orders at me. I just said, 'You're crazy, lady.' and hung up. As I walked back home, hesitantly and not completely ignoring the dogs, a noticed that a cat had been hit in the road, but only it's back half was squished, and it's front half was alive and well, reaching out to me with its paw and meowing in agony. And then I woke up. Not long after this I did rescue a dog (small and white) from the middle of the road.  That's another post.

01/27/16 ~ I was laying on a floor and someone was straddling me, pressing down on my chest.  I kept telling them to get off and they just kept pressing harder and harder.  I finally woke up gasping for air and breathing heavily for a few minutes.  This happened the night I got the results back from my sleep oximeter test. Go figure.

01/25/16 ~ I sat up in bed to see a shimmering, faceless being standing on the opposite side of the bed. There was very little detail to the form, but I could tell it was human. It appeared to be covered with a material similar to a silver emergency blanket, or aluminum foil, or perhaps saran wrap. As Dave walked into the room, it turned to look at him and quickly vaporized. Dave was understandably confused and kept asking if I was alright, until I woke up enough to say yes, lie back down, and quickly fall deeply asleep.