After yet another too real lucid dream about my kitty Bandit, I’ve been thinking about all of my children, from Misty to Tawny to Sabrina, Yenta, and Stella Rondo (named for a character in a short story by Eudora Welty) to Victor, Blackie, darling Ban — cats and dogs, mostly Border Collies, but also my rescued wolf hybrid Beowulf (of course) and crazy Tovah, my neurotic black German Shepherd.
I can’t wait to meet my babies again; happy and healthy. It’s going to be HEAVENly.
Art by Susan Alison
I had an unsettling dream. I had originally awakened just before six a.m. and thought I’d meditate but I made the mistake of laying my head back down on the pillow and fell asleep for about thirty more minutes.
BIG mistake.
I remember bits and pieces of this dream but am losing the main narrative. Dreams are so ephemeral; they swirl out of my mind like smoke from a bundle of sage. I’m hurrying to write it down before the details disappear forever.
My mom decided she wanted to move to another city. I can’t remember the reason but I went with her. I recall that I was moving away from the angels who lived in the city we were leaving and why I would do that that made absolutely no no sense to me, but I did it anyway. This was weird and out of character behavior because in real life, my mom lived with us here in this house. She wasn’t the type of person to encourage me to abandon my family.
There are decades and lives that are not aligned in reality — my mom died years before there were any angels and I don’t live in the Pacific Northwest like they do, but dreams shapeshift and time travel, so in that regard I guess it all makes sense. Sort of.
On the whole, I like to stay put, I like security, I love the adventure of travel but I also like to have an anchor to bring me back, a safe haven, a sanctuary. I don’t really take risks like packing up all my stuff and moving away forever. For me, there’s no place like home.
Back to the dream…we found a house to rent and I was engrossed in decorating my bedroom in pink and lavender (details!) but I wasn’t happy. I was yearning for HOME. I can’t explain WHY but there were roommates and I stayed in my room because I like solitude. I missed the angels. Oh, my bed was a narrow hospital bed with a handcrank, not sure why; maybe it was already there in the room because I wasn’t sick, not in the dream.
My mom suggested we attend some kind of outdoor activity–I can’t recall if it was a theme park or a street fair or a sports game (things she HATED in real life) but I went with her.
I got lost and separated from her because it was too noisy and I became disoriented. A little boy about T’s age was lost too but he had a better sense of direction than I did and helped us both find the exit where I found my mom waiting for me. I remember thinking that I should escort the little boy to his grownups, but in my dream, he kind of vanished. I guess he was there to help me, not the other way around,
I told her, “I want to go home. I really want to go home. I really need to go home.”
She said “OK” and we immediately started packing to return home.
After that, I woke up with the strongest message in my head, “I want to go home.” As soon as I opened my eyes before I was fully awake, I repeated it out loud to myself.
But I AM home.
I already know there’s no place like home. It’s very special to me.
What was that all about?
This is supposed to be a special day, opening intense portals, but I don’t feel more glamorous or angelic or perceptive, so maybe I’m not aligned properly.
‘2222 PORTAL and 2222 is made up of the energies of number 22, the Master Builder Number that resonates with ancient wisdom, vision, idealism, and transformation”. From Healing Energy Tools.
We also have the energies of the new moon in Aquarius.
Last night I woke up at 2:23 a.m (!) I don’t know if it was a lucid dream or reality, but either way, I heard loud pounding on my side garage door. In that inbetween state before I fully awoke, I counted approximately ten loud booms like someone was kicking at it.
I never again heard that distinctive sound after I was fully and completely awake, heart rate elevated to about 1000, so I guess it was a dream, but how ODD.
If someone was really trying to break in (there have been a lot of robberies around here) it wouldn’t do them any good because that door is thankfully sealed completely shut and can’t be opened at all. Just to be sure, I checked, and everything looks untouched.
Maybe it was someone trying to break through my portal doors?
According to Magical Recipes Online, “Tonight opens the portal of the High Priestess. It’s the second day of the second month of 2022: 2/2/22. This is very intense portal which leads to the wisdom and the inner mysteries of the High Priestess, the one who can channel the Moon! This portal will stay open until 22nd of February; 22/2/22. DO NOT attempt to open doors you are not ready for. Secrets can be liberating but also deadly! Magic is very very intense! TONIGHT, BE READY TO MOVE FORWARD. REMEMBER: DO NOT ‘UNLOCK DOORS’ IF YOU ARE NOT READY.”
That makes it all even more confusing. Oh my…
Have you ever had a dream that seemed to have been stitched together from a plethora of unrelated bits of fabric–a crazy quilt dream?
Here’s the parts I remember from last night’s dream:
There was a house in the forest.
Someone was trying to get in. He was holding a small old suitcase with a clown face on the front of it. (EWW, I know!)
I was tricked into opening the door and was subsequently taken hostage; locked away in a metal shed in the forest. It looked something like a high school locker but a bit bigger.
I managed to get out because the only thing holding the door closed was a bent up paper clip.
Once I got out, I encountered a deer with a string of solar fairy lights entangled in his antlers. He and I bonded and I was scratching his head.
We started to walk away when I heard someone from the shed calling for help. No one else had been inside when I was there!
When the deer and I went to investigate, we found Dick Van Dyke and liberated him. (Yes, DICK VAN DYKE!) He immediately started doing sit-ups and stretching, extolling the virtues of exercising at his age. OK old man, we get it. You’re fit as a fiddle.
Together, Dick and I gently removed the lights from the deer, although it didn’t seem as if he was bothered by them or in any pain.
DVD and I made a few phone calls to the police to search for the person who committed the crimes, but I’m not clear on the outcome because that’s when I woke up. My rational mind and my subconscious mind didn’t like what was going on.
As an aside, I don’t even LIKE Dick Van Dyke; I’ve never been a fan of his acting or his dancing or his persona. He wasn’t on my radar and I hadn’t read anything about him recently. I didn’t appreciate that he was hijacking my dream while I wanted to hang out with the deer.
There was an element of danger and fear, but feeling happy with my new deer friend. Other than that, I have NO IDEA what the message might have been, and now that I’m awake, the details are fading.
I guess maybe it was a warning to be more careful about who I open my front door to? I dunno, but I’m still shaking my head.
I don’t know if it’s caused by all the current planetary behavior (as above, so below) but lately my dreams have been excruciatingly real and detailed. Some of them are so vivid that I’m able to retain enough of them to journal before they disappear like a mirage in a puff of ephemeral smoke.
Anyway…
THIS particular dream went beyond the limits of what my brain can comprehend. (If goose bumps and hair standing up on your arms is any indication)
I was exhausted but satisfied by the completion of a tough garden project, replanting a flowerbed from where I had moved about 150 pounds of white rocks. What once was a cool mini desertscape had devolved into a tangled mess of climbing aloe and not very happy succulents and cacti. I removed them all, raked up the truckload of small white rocks that were all dirty and sad looking, and planted Bird of Paradise and Clivia I dug up from another part of the garden. Both have orange-y flowers and will look so pretty against the house.
The next day was going to be full of stress and anxiety because oral surgery was scheduled and I wasn’t looking forward to it at all. Thinking about the impending pain triggered all kinds of panicky ruminations.
I must have fallen asleep when I felt Bandit, my cat, jump on me, landing hard like she would do to wake me up (she was the real princess around here), and she curled up next to my stomach just like she always did, and I actually put my hand out to pet her and that’s when I freaked out and woke up.
Bandit spent her nights sleeping with me; most often would end up under the covers near my feet.
Nothing too strange about that, right? That’s what cats do.
Only…
OMG. The fact of the matter is that this is 2020 and Bandit went over the Rainbow Bridge in 2010 from complications due to chronic renal failure.
Bandit has been dead for ten years. She was thirteen-years-old when she died.
IT WAS SO REAL.
I looked at the clock. It was 3:00 a.m. I was now completely awake; my heart was racing. I never could get back to sleep. I still felt the warmth of her body, the silky feel of her fur tickling my arm. I felt her presence and it was REAL. I miss that little girl so much. I really really need her love and her comfort.
Was I in a lucid dream state or did Bandit really and truly visit me from beyond?
All I know is that I was so stressed when I was at the surgeon’s office today, I hyperventilated and my blood pressure was too high, so I started to visualize my beloved Bandit and it brought down my BP almost immediately. She was able to offer comfort even though she’s no longer physically on this earth. Her love for me transcended everything that my logical mind has a hard time comprehending.
Have you ever experienced a dream like that?
—Lucid dreaming is when you’re conscious during a dream. This typically happens during rapid eye movement (REM) sleep, the dream-stage of sleep. During a lucid dream, you’re aware of your consciousness.
My darling Bandit.
All this dreaming I’ve been doing reminded me of one of my favorite songs, “Dream a Little Dream of Me”. Which do you prefer? The Doris Day or Mama Cass version? Or Ella Fitzgerald/Louis Armstrong? For me, it’s an evocative and bittersweet song no matter who sings it. Check out the versions below and share your fave.
I have no idea why I’ve been experiencing such an enhanced dream-state, but here’s what I remember from the most recent one.
The act of remembering dreams is so ephemeral; just when you think you grasp a vision or a thought, it slips away; lost forever.
And nothing is longer than forever. This I know for sure.
I’m calling this one Tree Faces.
First of all, I remember being surrounded by tall trees in a circle, like a crown.
It’s silent in the forest. Through the bits of sky that peek through, the sun is shining, the sky is blue. Situated in the center of the circle, I feel myself lying down on a bed of crunchy pine needles. Squinting against the sun, I look up and up at the conifers, enchanted by their height and majesty.
I feel very princess-like, as if I’m growing as tall as the trees, as if I’m becoming the trees, even though my body is supported by earth and gravity. I understand these forest dwellers. These strong and resilient pine trees gently rustle their leaves and needles and the uppermost branches start to curve downward, to incline directly at me and then the tippiest top of the trees morphed into individual faces.
We gazed at each other for a few minutes, I turned my head all the way around to observe each and every face– I wasn’t scared or even surprised– and then one of them asked me, kindly, “Are you ready to go?” and another tree face asked, “Are you ready to leave and come with us?”
I remember knowing exactly what they were referring to and WHERE. I do. They wanted to know if I was ready to leave Earth and join them in the worlds we mortals don’t really know or accept that exist.
I sighed, and said, “No, I don’t think I can. Not yet, I can’t leave. I’m still needed here.”
But I wanted to go. I yearn to be in a place of eternal love and kindness and beauty.
So I asked the tree faces, “Can I be here and and come with you at the same time?”
I don’t recall an answer except the faces faded, the trees became tall and straight again, and I felt loved and protected and serene.
I closed my eyes and woke up at the same time.
Isn’t that so freaky???
I wrote down as much as I could remember, and started researching dream interpretations. Apparently, other people have dreams in which trees talk, so it’s not too unusual. It was amazing, though. The colors and smells and sensations of being in the forest and being protected were powerful.
I’ve always identified with being a tree-hugger so…who knows?
A wood or collection of trees: The natural forces in your own being, therefore ones connection with or awareness of the unconscious; other people’s personal growth and connection with self. The wood also indicates allowing yourself to be natural, to express what is innate in you, and for the mind and emotions to move in their own way. Walking in a wood might therefore suggest a feeling of relaxation, but it can also mean delving within your deeper feelings and mind – your unconscious – exploring your inner life.
What does it mean to dream about a tree talking? A tree talking to you in your dream could be a sign that, the subconscious is trying to let you learn something regarding some issue that you are currently facing. I know might seem a bit strange for the tree to actually – talk to you, but it could mean that all you need to do is wrap your arms around a tree and listen to the spiritual words that are being conveyed to you.
If you dreamed about a tree talking to you, such dream might represent messages from your subconscious, regarding some current issues in your life that you should pay attention to.
I took this pic two years ago on a camping trip in the Pacific Northwest. This is kinda what the trees looked like in my dream. Only with faces at the top.
You can’t make this stuff up, and that’s the truth.
Settle in for a Twilight Zone witchy type of a story.
Maybe you should stop for a minute and get your favorite crystal to hold for protection.
I’ll wait.
Okie dokie.
Let me give you the backstory; I don’t watch much local TV news, so there was no mention of what I’m about to share, neither on TV nor the internet.
No seed planted in my gray matter–conscious or subconscious—from any source.
Here’s the dream:
I was in my car with someone else driving. The time frame seemed to be current mixed with a sense that it was also eighty years ago.
We were driving to Ramona (a quaint little town on the way to our local mountains) and were stuck behind a line of vehicles from the 1930s and 1940s, the kind we associate with Prohibition; suicide doors, big tires, substantial, you know what I’m talking about. If I remember correctly, I even think the dream was in black and white, or at least most of the cars were shiny black.
However, the car I was in was not one of the older ones. It was brand new.
This road to Ramona is a two lane highway, and there were about a dozen vehicles, snaking steadily around the curves.
Photo from Pinterest
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A postcard of Main Street in Ramona, circa 1940. Photo Courtesy of Darrell Beck
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Cool dream, right?
Well, that’s not the freaky part, but this is…
Here’s the Twilight Zone reality:
I had a dentist’s appointment to follow-up on some oral surgery that’s taking a bit longer than it should to heal properly.
Because of the pandemic, I haven’t been out driving in a while, so I thought I’d take the long way home and drive down the coast. It’s a warm eighty degrees today and gorgeous.
Hand to heart, what I’m about to share is truth. I AM NOT KIDDING.
As I was driving south down Carlsbad Blvd, I looked around me and my mouth dropped open.
In front of me was a line of cars exactly like I had seen in my dream. I was following them. THE EXACT SAME CARS. Vintage autos from the 1930s and 1940s. There was nowhere to pull over and snap a photo so you’ll have to believe me.
Was it a car club? Probably, right? But I have no association with cars, new or old, and didn’t see any overt or subliminal advertising of a car club event.
All I know is that my dream was now my reality. Except it was Carlsbad and not Ramona.
Who can explain it?
Not me, that’s for sure. I’m pretty much of a skeptic, a “show me the science” type, but I’m edging toward a healthy respect for the unknown. Even more now, haha.
How weird is that? I have no idea what it all means. I researched it and what I learned is that to dream of antique or old fashioned cars represents current decisions in an area of your life being influenced by the past or by nostalgia.
If an old fashioned car is black or red this is symbolic of your thoughts and decisions being too influenced by the past, or return to unhealthy habits or views, and you might need to focus more on healthy decisions.
In dream meanings, your car often represents how you control your life. This dream implies an extension of what is achievable, and with more confidence you can achieve anything.
Generally, cars are attached to our inner emotions and can indicate spiritual progression on both a psychological and emotional level.
If you dream of an old car that is not your own – such as an antique or old fashioned car, this is a sign that you are a strong willed person – a man (or woman) of grit and steel. It is a great omen for your life now and that you can trust your own judgment.
Old Cars: Cars are symbols of movement and momentum in your life. They can indicate how you are progressing towards goals or if you are headed in the right direction in your life. If you dream of your old car and it is in good condition then this is a dream of moving in the right direction in your life.
Well, that’s all interesting and even positive info about old cars, but I could find nothing about the “coincidence” of living the same scenario as occurred in a dream. It’s not like I’m a prophet…
“Dreams are known as “the sleep language,” and since the time of creation God has brought divine revelation to mortal men and women while they are sleeping. Scripture even calls a prophet a “dreamer of dreams” (see Deut. 13:1; Num. 12:6). ” Charismanews.com
There are those who believe that dreams can indeed predict or foretell the future. Prophetic dreams are linked to major disasters, wars, assassinations, accidents, lottery numbers or even with winning horse race. Such dreams have helped solve crimes. In history, Abraham Lincoln was said to have dreamt of his own body laying in a coffin two weeks before he his assassination.
Or was it possibly a variation of Deja Reve, which is a French term meaning “already dreamed,” and it can be thought of as the opposite of lucid dreaming.
Deja Reve is the feeling you get when you find yourself in a situation that makes you feel as if you dreamed about it previously, that you dreamed you would be there.
The person I was with in my dream was not with me today in real life. Today, I was driving alone. I have no idea what it means because nothing really happened.
I simply observed a line of antique cars pretty much exactly as it happened in my dream. I could think of a lot of other dreams that could be more relevant to me; a dream about a gigantic suitcase full of money or a handsome knight on a white horse (or car) to sweep me off my feet and carry me off to the sunset. In Hawaii. That kind of thing.
or
dreams about the future could be as a sign of a prediction you are being given from your spirit guides or god. … If you have the ability to dream about the future, you will dream about such things as world events like earthquakes, tsunamis before they actually happen in the days to come.
or could it be a precognitive dream which could possibly act as a warning.
A dream might sometimes show you something unpleasant that might occur if you continue on the path you’re on. You experience the consequences/unpleasantness in your dream, and it allows you to course-correct and make another choice if you want to, so that you avoid the outcome shown in your dream. Then what you dreamed may or may not come about, depending on the choices you have made.
The second purpose of a precognitive dream is to show you that you’re on the right path.
A dream like this is usually one in which you see yourself, in a particular place. The details are usually very specific. Perhaps you see yourself doing something very specific, or you notice the specific details of your surroundings. Perhaps you’re speaking to someone who says something very unusual that sticks out in your memory.
Then some time later, you find yourself in that exact situation, in those exact surroundings, with the person in your dream who says what they said in your dream. You might have the same exact feeling in your reality as you did in your dream, like a weird déjà vu moment. annasayce.com
But why cars, I wonder? I don’t even really care much about cars. Did I time travel? Sort of an imperfect astral projection? Something to do with planetary influences?
I really, really wonder what the message is, especially since it was very much a Twilight Zone feeling.
If anyone wants to venture a guess, please share a comment and thank you!
Of course this is Shakespeare:
HAMLET:
To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, ’tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish’d. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub
Yeah, there’s the rub, that’s for sure.
I used to love to sleep. Sleep came so easily for me. Almost as soon as my head hit the pillow, I could count backwards 5-4-3-2-1 and be asleep. Just like that, *snapping my fingers*. I could fall asleep anywhere. I took blissful, restful sleep for granted.
Back then, my dreams were mostly of my beloved dogs and cats that had crossed the Rainbow Bridge, sometimes bringing happy messages back to me. Or every so often, I’d have a prophetic dream about my son but never really a nightmare.
Last night was a big deal for me.
April 1, 2019 marks the first night I slept an entire night without waking up once in dread, in a cold sweat, without my heart beating a million beats per second ready to jump out of my chest, without the gasp of that split second between sleep/awake and remembering that my daytime reality IS the nightmare, that there really IS hell on earth, and I am living proof.
When I first woke up this morning, it took a moment for me to perceive that it wasn’t 3am, that the earliest of early morning birds had started to sing and there was a faint hint of dawn lightening the sky.
There was no swirling of dreams that made waking up a death unto itself. A shard of glass to slice at my heart and torment me, poking at me with each inhale and exhale for the rest of the day.
There was peace. OMG, so much peace.
I had to help my brain process this miracle of healing, a painfully slow process of realization that FOR THE FIRST TIME, I had slept unfettered by the bondage of painful memories that morphed into night terrors so incredibly lucid that they haunted me during the day. Sleep was walking into a dark tunnel with not the slightest glimmer of light at the end of it. Depressing, huh?
I couldn’t endure another dream of a gigantic mottled black plague-infected rat with oozing sores climbing in my bed to curl up next to me, no more continuation of the abject panic that permeated my waking life.
No more dreams that weren’t even really dreams, simply the continuing of the day’s macabre horrors.
For more than three years, thirty-six months, 1,095 days, 26,280 hours, and 1,576,800 minutes, I couldn’t sleep, and I’d cry out to no one into the silence of the night to please wake me up from this nightmare, please take me out of my misery; only to realize that there was no respite for me.
“No sleep for you!” said the sleep Nazi (an homage to Seinfeld’s soup Nazi.)
The nightmare WAS the reality.
The dark soul of the night became the abject despair of the day.
There is the saying “follow your dreams” but if I had followed those dreams, I would have ended up in a vortex of Sartre’s No Exit.
I was in a neverending episode of the Twilight Zone, caught in a purgatory that I could never have prepared myself to endure. Drowning.
I tried everything: meditation, EFT, mantras, deep breathing exercises to control my out of control hyperventilation /tachypnea, conscious mindfulness, and lessons in neural plascticity to nurse my wounded brain. One of the best pain relievers was and is listening to raw binaural beats with headphones. Some nights, that was the only way I could even attempt sleep.
I dreaded going to sleep, the actual sleep, and the waking up from an unhappy sleep.
The simple tortuous action of closing my eyes created a canvas where I’d be subjected to an endless loop of conversations, images, mirages spanning more than twenty years.
I wished for a lobotomy, to be in a coma, to erase all that was etched in my conscious and subconscious.
Through pain and fear and sadness, I discovered that the only cure is radical acceptance. I couldn’t run away from it. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Wherever you go, there you are.
I had to stand my ground and surrender to the pain.
To love it, honor it, respect it, and learn from it.
Now. Right now. I hear a hawk, I hear a scrub jay, I hear the angry chattering of a nesting Bell’s Vireo. Off in the distance, I hear a train. I hear an airplane. I hear a symphony of wind chimes. I see blue sky, I see lush green grass that’s been lovingly tended, I feel a gentle breeze lifting a swarm of Painted Lady butterflies from the yellow marguerite daisy bushes to settle for a moment on the Pride of Madeira. All the rain we had this season birthed an incredible floral display.
Everything around me seems to be conspiring to show me that there’s still beauty after a storm, that there’s happiness to be discovered if you look and listen.
Oh and I see a bunny. Always a bunny.
My heart is wounded and scarred; I’ve been through a war zone,
I had no weapons to fight the enemy that raped and pillaged my life and my innocence. And my heart.
I’m collateral damage,
I’m eternally sad.
But I’m alive, and that’s something to be grateful for.
And…for the very first time in a long time, I slept an entire night and woke up in serenity and peace.
(But that peace wouldn’t last, as I soon learned…)
Enchanted Seashells by Princess Rosebud 