Strange and simple dreams
If you read this long post, you might think I have gone completely around the bend. If you are that busy, grumpy or wise than please skip past this LJ cut for your peace of mind.
Mind babble from real head wound awaits behind LJ cut.
Weirdness factor increases with length of post.
I could explain why this dream happened, what started it, why it changed and how it has changed from such a horrible nightmare to such a good dream.
But none of that matters and the analysis is long and likely a narcissistic, intellectual masturbation fest. So I'll skip to the good part.
I have been having a dream since I can remember as a child: I am small child. It's completely dark. It's cold and wet. I am not lost, because no one is coming for me. Ever. I am all alone and abandoned. I am am crying so hard I am keening.
It was a really horrible nightmare.
Shortly after my beginning of teen 'rebellion', I had what can best be described as an 'episode'. I am not gonna argue about semantics, but I call it Gnosis. Call it teen angst cubed for all I care. There was a particularly fierce and physical confrontation in my personal physical life.
During that episode I swore a strange vow. In my fire and rage during the fight I could hear that little boy crying in the dark. When I had finished the violent encounter, I turned my back on my enemy and screamed into the darkness of my mind, "I am coming for you! I swear on my soul, I am coming for you!"
Fucked up, I know. I was screaming back in time at myself in my head. But if YOU had heard the sound of that little boy cry, you would have done the same.
But then the dreams started changing. I never again dreamt I was the little lost boy.
I wasn't a child any longer when I had those dreams. I was a man. I was a full grown man, covered in scars and marks of adulthood. But it was back in the the same cold, dark, wet, lonely place I knew so well from my childhood nightmares.
But this time I was armed and I was searching my way through endless tunnels and cutting my way through countless enemies toward that little boy's crying. It was always there in the background, weeping in terror and loneliness. If I could just kill enough of the bastards to find the boy before they found him, I was getting that kid out. If I had to die along the way, I WAS GETTING THAT KID OUT! (It was a dream, and we are all the heroes of our private cinemas aren't we?)
I started dreaming that dream as teenager. But I always dreamt that I was an adult male while I was in that version of the dream.
As the years went by, I would get closer and closer to the boy (or personification of myself if you prefer). Shortly before the dreams finally stopped, I finally found the boy in several recurring dreams. I found a small little towhead, who looked exactly like my parent's pictures of me as a child. He was scared, alone, red-faced, crying and with his little arms upstreched to me when I finally found him.
And I picked him up, taking him/myself from that dark and lonely place...rocking him on my shoulder and cooing, "I told you I would come for you. I promised. I'll take care of you. I'm strong now. Don't cry anymore."
Shortly after the pleasant end to that series of dreams, a lot of good things happened in my life. Over that period of time as the dreams where ending, I came to a much deeper understanding of who I am and it did my soul a lot of good. It was one of a series of changes that has more than a few old acquaintances looking at me oddly these days. They don't always recognize the Eric they remember.
I guess I didn't realize just how much I have changed in the last fifteen years.
OK...OK Final weirdness:
The other day, my son woke up in his crib while I was on 'baby monitor' duty. My wife was in the basement doing laundry, so I got up from the living room to get Drake when I heard his waking noises over the baby monitor.
When he wakes up alone, he is NOT a happy camper.
So I pick up my son, who is standing at the edge of his crib, crying and red faced with his arms outstretched to me. I pick up my weeping son and carry him on my shoulder, cooing to him and telling not to be so upset. Mama and Papa would never abandon him and would always be there for him, so there was no reason to cry.
So I rocked my nine month old son on my shoulder and walked up and down the hallway, talking to him and calming him down. Then I caught a glimpse of myself in the hallway mirror.
And thats when I recognized the bodies.
Mine and his.
The full grown, adult male body I had been wearing in my dreams since I was fourteen was the body I was wearing in the mirror. With it's long curly hair, goatee, broad shoulders and stubborn extra twenty pounds on his frame. And the tow headed boy on my shoulder looks identical to the pictures of me in my parent's family picture album.
I am glad the Universe gave me that. I haven't remembered that dream in years. That sort of thing makes a lot of the average daily pain of life disappear for a short time while you revel in the wonder of it all.
For all the exhaustion, pain and struggle life seems to love to dish out...sometimes it gives you a moment to just be really happy. The moments are sometimes fleeting, but oft remembered.
And if this all seems mushy...I claim a head wound! Today, I managed to clobber my noggin on a very sharp piece of conveyor that the machine builder hadn't gotten around to grinding smooth yet.
Scalp wounds bleed buckets, but I fortunately avoided both stitches and a trip to the medical clinic. It hurt like hell, but I just needed a sink and a bandage.
Wishes of love, peace, fortune and good health to you all my friends. There are better days ahead for all of us.
Mind babble from real head wound awaits behind LJ cut.
Weirdness factor increases with length of post.
I could explain why this dream happened, what started it, why it changed and how it has changed from such a horrible nightmare to such a good dream.
But none of that matters and the analysis is long and likely a narcissistic, intellectual masturbation fest. So I'll skip to the good part.
I have been having a dream since I can remember as a child: I am small child. It's completely dark. It's cold and wet. I am not lost, because no one is coming for me. Ever. I am all alone and abandoned. I am am crying so hard I am keening.
It was a really horrible nightmare.
Shortly after my beginning of teen 'rebellion', I had what can best be described as an 'episode'. I am not gonna argue about semantics, but I call it Gnosis. Call it teen angst cubed for all I care. There was a particularly fierce and physical confrontation in my personal physical life.
During that episode I swore a strange vow. In my fire and rage during the fight I could hear that little boy crying in the dark. When I had finished the violent encounter, I turned my back on my enemy and screamed into the darkness of my mind, "I am coming for you! I swear on my soul, I am coming for you!"
Fucked up, I know. I was screaming back in time at myself in my head. But if YOU had heard the sound of that little boy cry, you would have done the same.
But then the dreams started changing. I never again dreamt I was the little lost boy.
I wasn't a child any longer when I had those dreams. I was a man. I was a full grown man, covered in scars and marks of adulthood. But it was back in the the same cold, dark, wet, lonely place I knew so well from my childhood nightmares.
But this time I was armed and I was searching my way through endless tunnels and cutting my way through countless enemies toward that little boy's crying. It was always there in the background, weeping in terror and loneliness. If I could just kill enough of the bastards to find the boy before they found him, I was getting that kid out. If I had to die along the way, I WAS GETTING THAT KID OUT! (It was a dream, and we are all the heroes of our private cinemas aren't we?)
I started dreaming that dream as teenager. But I always dreamt that I was an adult male while I was in that version of the dream.
As the years went by, I would get closer and closer to the boy (or personification of myself if you prefer). Shortly before the dreams finally stopped, I finally found the boy in several recurring dreams. I found a small little towhead, who looked exactly like my parent's pictures of me as a child. He was scared, alone, red-faced, crying and with his little arms upstreched to me when I finally found him.
And I picked him up, taking him/myself from that dark and lonely place...rocking him on my shoulder and cooing, "I told you I would come for you. I promised. I'll take care of you. I'm strong now. Don't cry anymore."
Shortly after the pleasant end to that series of dreams, a lot of good things happened in my life. Over that period of time as the dreams where ending, I came to a much deeper understanding of who I am and it did my soul a lot of good. It was one of a series of changes that has more than a few old acquaintances looking at me oddly these days. They don't always recognize the Eric they remember.
I guess I didn't realize just how much I have changed in the last fifteen years.
OK...OK Final weirdness:
The other day, my son woke up in his crib while I was on 'baby monitor' duty. My wife was in the basement doing laundry, so I got up from the living room to get Drake when I heard his waking noises over the baby monitor.
When he wakes up alone, he is NOT a happy camper.
So I pick up my son, who is standing at the edge of his crib, crying and red faced with his arms outstretched to me. I pick up my weeping son and carry him on my shoulder, cooing to him and telling not to be so upset. Mama and Papa would never abandon him and would always be there for him, so there was no reason to cry.
So I rocked my nine month old son on my shoulder and walked up and down the hallway, talking to him and calming him down. Then I caught a glimpse of myself in the hallway mirror.
And thats when I recognized the bodies.
Mine and his.
The full grown, adult male body I had been wearing in my dreams since I was fourteen was the body I was wearing in the mirror. With it's long curly hair, goatee, broad shoulders and stubborn extra twenty pounds on his frame. And the tow headed boy on my shoulder looks identical to the pictures of me in my parent's family picture album.
I am glad the Universe gave me that. I haven't remembered that dream in years. That sort of thing makes a lot of the average daily pain of life disappear for a short time while you revel in the wonder of it all.
For all the exhaustion, pain and struggle life seems to love to dish out...sometimes it gives you a moment to just be really happy. The moments are sometimes fleeting, but oft remembered.
And if this all seems mushy...I claim a head wound! Today, I managed to clobber my noggin on a very sharp piece of conveyor that the machine builder hadn't gotten around to grinding smooth yet.
Scalp wounds bleed buckets, but I fortunately avoided both stitches and a trip to the medical clinic. It hurt like hell, but I just needed a sink and a bandage.
Wishes of love, peace, fortune and good health to you all my friends. There are better days ahead for all of us.