Dreams are a very interesting experience and very personal to the individual. We all dream, that is a fact however we will never experience another persons dream so surely like the old snowflake and DNA combination, they are all unique to you. Many theories exist of why we dream, from the purely scientific whereby the facilitate the standby process of the brain allowing us to reenergise and compartmentalise all the events of the previous 18 hours. They have also been theorised to represent our hopes and dreams in a manifestation to allow us to do just that, dream.
I have this rather odd recurring dream. I have it about once a year without fail. I am In an auditorium style venue with the layered seating. I am sat in my little seat petrified that I am going to plummet to my death. I spent the whole dream as still I possibly can be contemplating my ultimate doom, which needless to say never happens. On the surface this could be interpreted as a simple fear of heights. I do not have a fear of heights per se, its the feat of falling to a grizzly death that bothers me. If I have a railing and plenty to limit my chances of death then I am pretty dandy with whole height thing.
Paradoxically I also have a recurring dream where I can fly. I think everyone has had this at one point of another. The wind is rushing in your hair and you have the complete feeling of liberation, of total freedom. The two conflicting dreams could represent a complete duality in emotions. One represents a feeling of repression and being stifled, a lack of control whereas the other symbolises a feeling of freedom and complete control in our surroundings. I always was a mixed bag of conflicting dichotomies and this illustration through my dreams completely represents me and perhaps everyone’s duality. We all struggle between that balance of control/lack of control.
Sometimes though dreams can hold very little to interpret. There are the dreams which just hit us plain in the face and require no reflection as they are as plain as a sunrise. Those dreams usually pack a wallop. Last night I had such a dream. I was in some mystical realm where reality was distorted and I could not specifically define my locale, most dreams appear in this abstract notion of being. In my dream she was there, alive, it was mummy. In my dream I had a step mother bizarrely and it was her who passed away. Not my mummy. I felt so relieved that I hugged her so tight as we talked about the confusion as if it was normal. I hadn’t just buried my mummy, it was some unknown step mother from the likes of Cinderella. I had made a mistake, I felt incredible. Though death is unfortunate in all circumstances I felt no remorse for this step mother figure, as she wasn’t real. I have no step mother so how could I feel a sense of attachment to this random figure, all I knew was that my mummy was beside me smiling at me.
I remember few specific details of the dream apart from one little fact. She was all in white. This would not be automatically odd apart from my mother never wore white, I don’t even think she owned the shade (as we know white is a shade, rather the absence of colour, sorry couldn’t resist). White usually symbolises purity and in this case I guess that’s how I see her now. Some heavenly angel like figure in my dreams. When I woke this morning I felt so comforted and protected. Then as the sunlight began to trickle more and more into my bedroom the stark reality began to hit me. It was all a dream.
This is the first time I have dreamt about her since it happened. I think its the first time I’ve had a dream full stop since it all happened. We all have those dreams that we want to last forever and this was certainly one. I felt enveloped in a blanket of love and contentment. It felt so good to have her there. We didn’t speak really. We just sat smiling at each other. It was so nice and so warm, I think that’s the best way to describe the dream. For a few minutes this morning I did feel sad however as I sit with my cereal and my laptop I feel sort of strange and content. Maybe I’m crazy (strong chance of that) but I did feel like I was connecting with her after all these months. Maybe it was just a dream, or maybe something more. I choose to think the latter. After all what harm is there in that?
I look forward to my dreams now, perhaps she will make further cameos. My mother was a big dreamer and we often talked about what they meant and how stranger hers were. Perhaps she has passed that on to me?
If so, what a lovely gift.
xoxox
A Grievers Guide to the Galaxy 