Dreams are one of the strangest elements of God's creation on this here planet. They can be vague. They can be vivid, especially if you're pregnant. They rarely have real beginnings and real endings. And even when they do have a clear beginning and a clear ending, rarely are those logical beginnings or endings.
At least that's the case in my dreams.
Like lots of other people, I have recurring dreams. The recurring dream from last night that prompted this post will be the one I share last. I will begin with a couple of the oldest dreams I remember that still come back now, even in my adulthood that is 35 years beyond the events that are the origination for these two dreams.
The first is from my Jr. high days. Yes, that phrase dates me right there, for today young adolescents attend middle school. But back in the dark ages, we went to Jr. high. Florissant Jr. High it was for me. The buildings that housed Florissant Jr. High (FJH) are no longer even a school any more. These buildings have housed the school district administrative offices for at least the last 15 years or so, I would say. But back then, the halls of FJH were filled with awkward, gangly, too cool for their own good 7th, 8th and 9th graders. That's right. 9th grade back then wasn't even at the high school.
FJH was made up of five buildings, A - E. Four of the buildings were almost identical, two-story lined up across the front of the campus, and the fifth building was in the back and housed the gyms, art and the band and choir rooms. (I was a choir girl myself. It never even occurred to me to take up a band instrument, I guess because I played the piano?) Anyway buildings A - D, the front four, were all connected from one end to the other with walkways on the second floor, so you could stand on the second floor in D outside the science and home ec rooms and see all the way to building A where the social studies and English classes were held. Room numbers were basically a combination of the letter of the building and the floor as the first two characters and then sequential order after that, as in A201 would be the first room on the second floor of building A.
I have to stop right here and admit that I'm not totally sure I have the building letter designations quite right. I may have those backwards, but I'm sticking with A is where social studies classes were and D is where the science classes were for the sake of this post. Others may read this who were there and have much better memories than I of the building letters.
It was a fairly large campus for a 13 year old, and it must have been a bit scary for me, which is I guess why I still dream about being lost in those buildings. I am never in Building E for this dream. I am almost always in Building D on the second floor looking down the long walkway to Building A, and I have no idea where my next class is. I know what class I am supposed to go to (see other dream in a moment), but I have no idea how to get there. The walkway is almost always completely empty in this dream, and generally the dream begins and ends right there. Sometimes I will walk through the walkway, but most of the time, I simply stand there paralyzed in my fear of being late to my next class because I've forgotten where it's located or even the room number to help me find it.
The second dream is very much like it. In this dream - and again, it usually begins on the second floor of Building D - I have forgotten my class schedule. So in this case I have no idea what my next class is and cannot locate a printed copy of my schedule.
I guess you could say that both of these are versions of the classic forgetting to get dressed for the day dream; these just happen to be my versions. But does it make any sense that I still dream these 35 years after the fact?
Two other recurring dreams haven't happened quite so much as they once did. These two may be a bit of TMI, but I hope not. The first began shortly after I lost both of my parents. I will wake up in a panic, because I will be dreaming about being in their home for a variety of reasons. But the dream is so vivid, and seeing them again feels so real that I wake up thinking, "I haven't gone to see my parents in too long! I need to go by their house!" And then I get really awake and remember that they don't live in that house any more.
The other one concerns my first husband. In this dream we are still married, but my head swears we are divorced. Invariably, I am laying on the very edge of the large, king-sized waterbed we had a few lifetimes ago, and clinging for a way to escape. This dream would wake me up in an even bigger panic than the one about my parents. I was even known to be so shaken up by this one a time or two that I would look up the divorce papers one more time just to be sure. Thankfully this dream has become more and more rare since G and I married. And I hope it stays that way!
So here is the last dream that I had again last night that prompted this post. I have had this dream so many times, and it makes no sense to me whatsoever. The dream generally begins with me trying to get somewhere by foot. I am walking, but it feels very sluggish, so I try running. But that feels even more sluggish. So what do I do? I start walking with my hands. Yes, that's right, I walk with my hands. Because I'm so coordinated in real life like that, right? And this isn't where I am walking on my hands like a hand stand. No, in this case, I am swinging on my hands, rather monkey like if that makes any sense. In this dream, my arms are long enough for me to place my two hands in front of me and then swing my body between my arms before I place them down in front of me again. Don't ask me how I manage to balance all of this or where my legs are during this swinging action, but as soon as I start doing this, I start making REAL progress! I am just about flying around the streets of Ferguson! Last night I was hand walking like an Olympian up Florissant Road - and all the time I know that I am way late for work, and know I should be checking my phone for work emails plus contacting my boss that I'm either going to be way late or not coming in that day. But instead of doing any of those things, I am simply planting my hands and swinging my body and planting my hands and swinging my body and impressing everyone around me! And I never plant my body down after each swing. Nope! I somehow manage to suspend myself in midair while my hands move out in front of me again. If I could actually execute this action, it would be quite the sight to see, let me tell you! But in my dreams, in this dream, it feels like the most natural thing in the world and walking or running is like wading through quicksand.
And then the dreams end. And I wake up like this morning wondering, "Why did I dream that one again?"
Like I said at the beginning, dreams are some of the strangest elements of God's creation on this here planet.
Or is that true only in my dreams?
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