WHAT DREAMS MAY COME

Photo: "Eight Cents"
By Skitch

THEN:

Dreams are a fascinating subject for me.  Since I have a great long term memory, I put that to use and collect my dreams like many people collect stamps or postcards. (Which I also collect, by the by.) From time to time, I pour my dreams out of my head and look them over, like glass marbles in my hand. 

The earliest dream I can remember I had when I was between two and three and we were living in what we dubbed "The White House", simply because it was the only house my family ever lived in that was painted white. I was much older before I realized it was a tongue in cheek kind of saying. I told some kids at school that something happened when my family lived in The White House and they laughed good naturedly. That was when I realized that most people thought of the president's home when you said that. In this dream I thought that my mother was a witch, complete with gray skin, warts, and a nose as pointy as her hat. We must have watched The Wizard of Oz recently. I dreamed that she chased me through our house, that I managed to get a bit ahead of her, and I hid behind the bedroom door. When she came into the room she pulled the door forward and looked behind it with her evil, beady eyes. I screamed and woke up. My mother tried to comfort me but I would have none of it. I wanted my daddy and mother was offended, angry that I was saying, "You are a witch, Mommy." Daddy chastised me for hurting Mother's feelings, and I tried to wrap my young brain around the idea that what I had just dreamed was not real.

Not long after that, and at the same home, I dreamed that Daddy and I were outside our house when people ran up and started telling Dad that a monster was out; that it was looking for people to eat. They ran away in a panic. Dad took a ketchup bottle and said, "We'll put this on us and that old monster will think we're already dead and no good to eat. He'll pass us up and go on looking for someone he can kill." It sounded like a fabulous plan to me. Then Daddy squirted the ketchup all over his stomach, but when he started to put some on me the bottle was empty. He grabbed a mustard bottle and squirted that on my stomach instead. As I sometimes did as a little girl, I was not even wearing a shirt. Just underpants or shorts, I don't recall which. I was upset with the mustard. I was not convinced that would work as well, but Dad said it would. We heard the monster coming and Daddy told me to lie down, close my eyes, and not to move or even breathe. The monster was gigantic! Taller than our house! As best I can recall this monster looked a lot like the Abominable Snowman from the Rudolph cartoon. Through barely slitted eyes my dream-self watched him look over my father, sniff him, and pass him by. I was so relieved that my daddy did not get eaten, but now I was worried for myself. The monster came to me and I could feel his hot breath on my bare skin. He sniffed me and instead of walking on, he picked me up in his big clawed hands and sniffed my stomach again. He began to lick the mustard from me, and I struggled to remain silent and unmoving. I knew that at any moment he could take a huge bite out of my stomach. I lost my courage and I woke up screaming. I had been asleep in "the back bedroom" of our home. It was evening and dark but not yet bedtime. I knew this because all the adults were yet milling around the house. The window in the room I was sleeping in had been left open to lessen the sweltering summer heat. My mother came when I cried and picked me up. She carried me from the spooky nightmare room to the warm yellow light of the kitchen, and suddenly I was surrounded by many of the comforting adults that filled my days. Daddy was there, and one of my sisters, though I can't recall which. They made the comforting sounds that adults make for crying children. I was babbling about a monster eating the mustard and they said things, too lightly, like: "She must have had a nightmare, poor thing." I could hear humor in their voices and though it infuriated me a bit, it wasn't at all funny that I was about to be eaten by a mustard loving giant monster, it also calmed me. They would not laugh if I were in any real danger. I knew that. Momma said to my father, "Honey look! No wonder she was having nightmares; she's covered in mosquito bites!" My skin was tight and itchy and I was bathed in a film of sweat. Mom wiped me down with a cool cloth and put medicine on the bug bites. She admonished me not to scratch. Dad or my sister brought me something to drink. I told my father about my dream and he said. "Dee Dee, it was just a bad dream. There are no monsters, but if there was and we only had a little bit of ketchup I'd put it on you first and I'd try the mustard on me. Don't you know that?" I drank the cold orange kool-aid, listened to the crickets outside, and thought about dreams, and life, and my family.

The next dream I remember having was at "The Trailer" and I was six or seven. We had two horses that I claimed as my own and no one ever disagreed with me. Lila had named them before she got married at the ripe old age of 15, when I was five. She named the tall skinny one Gideon, and the shorter but stouter one Goliath. We also had two black cats that she had named Midnight and Tar Baby. I thought that Lila gave animals the best names. That night I dreamed that mom, dad, and I were having a picnic in our yard. This is not something I'd ever done but in the dream it seemed perfectly normal. It was a beautiful day, and I was playing nearby as we'd finished eating. Mom and Dad were talking and smiling at one another. Gideon was tied to the hitching post nearby and suddenly he began to grow, and grow, and grow. As he grew, his breathing became louder and louder. As he breathed louder I could breathe less. I remember thinking, "He's sucking all the air out of the world!" I tried to scream but couldn't draw a full breath of air. I startled awake, sucking in a large amount of air through my mouth, and discovered that my nose was so stuffed up from a head cold that I could not breath through it. That was when I first discovered the connection between what is going on in the real world and what goes on in your dreams.

At about the same time and in that home, I had my first hypinc jerk. I dreamed that my best friend Randall (Ran) and I were riding our horses and being chased by "Indians". By this time in my life, I'd spent some time watching Daniel Boone and The Lone Ranger with my daddy and Ran and I played cowboys and Indians all the time. In this dream, I was shot in the side by an Indian arrow, and as I fell from my horse I jolted awake. I knew instantly that I'd only been asleep for a second or two and I marveled at how quickly we dream.

When I was about nine or ten and living "Up on the Hill" (which was actually a mountain) I dreamed a horrible dream about a pig. I thought it was chasing me through our home, and I knew it wanted to eat me, or something even worse. I crawled up on top of things but it was so big it could knock furnishings over and that is just what it did. Everything I climbed it knocked over. In desperation I ran outside, thinking I could get on top of the hen house and it could not knock that down. The pig caught me before I made it to the hen house though. It knocked me down in the dirt yard. It sat on me and began to chant and sway. Before my eyes it turned into a fat foreign man. (Perhaps it was Buddha?) I knew it was the devil or some agent for the devil. I knew it was trying to destroy me body and soul. I woke up more frightened than I had ever been from any dream. At that time in my life, my mother had warned me about devil worshipers that she had heard were kidnapping young blond little girls and sacrificing them. There was also some talk in church about The Mark of the Beast. I knew even then that those two things had played into that dream but it still terrified me for years afterward. 


Dreams That (in part) Came True:

In my teens, while living "Behind the Paylo" (Supermarket) I dreamed a few dreams that had portions that later came true. I dreamed that I was in a cave and a young boy was brandishing a broom at me like a weapon. The next day Lila brought her nephew Dexter over and he picked up a broom and tried to hit me with it. I took it from him easily enough but could not shake the cold sweat that crawled over my skin when I remembered the same incident in the dream of the night before. I told Sandi and Lila but they shook it off as coincidental. I was not so sure. No, I was not in a cave, no he wasn't the exact same person, but the fierce look in his eyes, the stance, even the angle of the broom, all had been identical to the dream.

Several times, I dreamed of faces and later saw them in passing. Sandi said it was a twist on dé javu. I saw the face today and filled it into the dream memory, convincing myself that I had seen the same face in the dream the night before. I was not convinced. Why would I do that? But I did not deem it worthy of an argument with my wonderful sister. 

Twice I dreamed of having eight kids, five girls and three boys. In the first dream I was having babies but so were several other young women. I had a daughter then had to jump up and let the attending women ( possibly midwives) help the next girl with her delivery, and so on,  around and around in a line until I had eight children of my own, laid out on a dirty mattress. I had five girls and three boys. I looked at them all with a heart filled with love, and more than a little fear. The next day, Greg, my boyfriend and future husband, tossed coins at me playfully when I would not get up off my bed and come see what he wanted to show me. They landed, as he intended I am sure, between my legs. I picked them up and counted one nickel and three pennies. I was reminded of my dream and told him about it. He laughed it off. "If you have eight kids," he said, "It will not be with me! I want two kids: one boy and one girl. No more." 

In the second dream of eight kids my husband and I were readying to take them somewhere. We were trying to put them all in a truck. Car seats at that time were very new, but I was insisting that all my babies be in car seats so they would be safe. My husband and I were strapping car seats into the truck bench, into the floor, and hanging from the door of the truck. I had three little daughters in frilly blue dresses that had identical little faces and heads simply full of brown curls. I had two other younger daughters, and three sons, all of varying ages except for the triplets. They were all beautiful, all sweet. I remember being so proud of them as I scooped them each up and strapped them safely into their seats. Nothing untoward happened the next day, so I only remembered the dream because it had been pleasant and had reminded me of the other dream. Years later, after having two sons with Greg, I met and married a man that had triplet daughters, two more daughters, and one son. I now have eight beautiful children that I face with a heart filled with love and more than a little fear. I am very proud of each and every one of them. They are capable of great kindness and selflessness. They are intelligent and beautiful, and they can be so humorous, so witty. It is hard being a step-parent under the best of conditions and our conditions are far from ideal, but I would give my life for any one of them, and I'm so glad they are part of my family!


Recurring Dreams:

As an adult I've had a few dreams or themes that recur. I used to dream of finding the same frightening face staring back at me from a hiding spot in my home when I was checking to make sure everything was safe. This one troubled me a lot for a time, as I have had faces that seemed to come out of my dreams and settle into my reality. After I time, I did not dream his face up anymore and eventually the fear left me, but I still remember that face. Part of me thinks that I may yet stumble upon him, but he has waited too long if I do. I no longer fear him. I have much to live for. I am sure to win.

I have had nightmares in which I lose my teeth, usually the front ones. I have had dreams of falling from a great height in which I startle awake. I've dreamed of being caught in a tight spot, usually under a house. None of these dreams trouble me anymore but did for ages while I was re-visited by them. I have not had any of these in over a decade. 

On a happier note, I've dreamed of my favorite actor, Kevin Costner, multiple times. Now, now! Usually they are quite mundane even boring dreams in which we are walking together, or having lunch, talking and laughing.

The dream that visits me repeatedly these days is my favorite. I dream of moving into a home so huge I'm quickly lost in it. I can't figure out how to get from one area to another, but I'm having fun trying. Usually in these dreams the kids are younger and are going through picking out bedrooms. We are together, happy, and filled with hope for the future. It is a very good dream. 

Possibly the oddest dream I've ever had was one about a pig, not a big, mean pig this time, but a sweet, little, pink piggy that, in my dream, I loved very much. The dream was so real to me that I missed him all day after I awoke. I mourned for a pig I'd never really known. How crazy is that?

I have dreams in which I am myself and dreams in which I am others. I've dreamed, more than once, of being a man, more than once of being black, and I always dream in color. I've dreamed of bright yellow dresses, red blood, and fields of blue flowers. Most of my dreams are complete stories. My husband says I dream movies in my head. Many of my favorite novel ideas have come from my dreams. I've toyed with the idea that some of the dreams are from past lives or from some psychic connection with other people, living or dead. Who knows? Who has all the answers in this life? Certainly not me! But I am truly enjoying the quest that the questions provoke. I'm truly enjoying my life. I hope you are too!

Sweet Dreams to you and yours!