Tag Archive | dreams

Captive Pursuit

Ah, Tosk. A species designed and bred to be prey, for the entertainment of a hunting species, to the extent that he does not even have his own name, he just identifies as Tosk, his very identity is prey. (There’s an echo of this in Voyager’s Hirogen and their holographic prey who rise up against them.)

I remember writing about this episode, but I don’t remember who I would have originally cast as Tosk, the hunters, Sisko, or O’Brien who is the hero of this story.

tosk

Right now I think that Tosk is me. I’m not really being pursued. No-one is after me. It’s just a feeling. But it is a recurring theme in my dreams, being on the run. I think it’s just a result of general anxiety really. I can’t pinpoint a specific worry.

But somehow, I seem to have attracted (or been spotted by) a string of manipulative, controlling women who used me and caused a lot of trouble.

The fact that it happened so many times made me begin to wonder why – I am not a pushover, I am not an easy target. I do not view myself as a victim. And I don’t think I am a bad judge of character. Actually, the first time I was taken in because I had no idea – the person in question was a real charmer, a complete snake.

But I wised up real quick, and I knew from the outset with the others that there was something not quite right. But still they kept spotting me. I think it was because I’m a basically nice person and probably more tolerant than most. But they were always surprised when I turned around and said “No” because when they make a mark, they think they can do anything!

I have found that drawing boundaries is really important, those type of people will push and push to see just how much they can get away with. And often, they’re subtle and cunning and you don’t realise you’re being pushed until you’re already well outside your comfort zone – like the proverbial frog in the slowly boiling water.

It becomes necessary, for those of us who are essentially as ‘harmless as doves’ to also be as ‘wise as serpents’, because that’s just what they are.

wise serpent

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What’s it all about? #DreamWeirdness

I discovered the other day that intense and strange dreams are actually a recognised symptom of ME, something to do with hyperventilation because the oxygen doesn’t get to our cells properly. Anyway, that may explain why my dreams are always so vivid, and so memorable (to me anyway).

In my dream, we let ourselves sneakily into our wealthy friends, Derek & Jane’s massive house (not the house they really in but rather some kind of classic mansion, with oak panelling everywhere) this would be the perfect size for us, I remarked.

Derek & Jane turn up unexpectedly and are shocked to see us there, and we tell them that we are there to meet Tom (their eldest son). They rush off, believing our story, taking some other wealthy people’s children to swimming lessons at a private pool. Everything seems to look like 1930s, something out of a Poirot episode. The swimmers are in special life-saving costumes.

I went in a downstairs toilet, there was a big dog lying with its face under a stool or something. It had such long, red fur I thought it was a girl. It’s asleep and doesn’t stir.

Later, I am wandering round a bigger building, perhaps a school, attached to the house. People are milling around. I see someone I recognise and realise I know her from a scrapbooking group, but then I realise it can’t be that, because the scrapbooking group was in the city. it must be something else like that. We talk and walk together, but then I suddenly realise I am completely naked!

I run back to the house looking for the bathroom or somewhere where I can find clothes or something to cover myself. There are people there! Have I gone in the wrong house? People I don’t know, cooking in the kitchen. I panic when suddenly I see my friend Nathalie who pulls me into another room (to protect my modesty!) She tells me it will be alright and that the people cooking would like my help.

We have dinner, the other people have gone, and I look for a sink to wash the dishes. There are sinks everywhere! But they’re all full of strange things. I finally find an empty sink when somebody comes in the front door, a lady with a little boy. She goes in to the toilet without stopping to speak to us.

Now (as is the way in dreams) it has changed to John and Gay’s house (but not the house I remember). I tell the lady they are out and then as she turns I realise she is heavily pregnant. I ask her when she is due, and she says soon, and then realises she is going in to labour. I wave over the neighbours. I say the boy can’t stay with us as he doesn’t know us. She is in a panic, and I think to myself that her anxiety reminds me of me, but the neighbours arrange everything and take them away.

Why? What’s it all about? Lots of my dreams feature pregnancy and babies, random people I know, houses I know. And peculiarly, sinks, toilets and bathrooms feature heavily.

Is it all nonsense? Do I need therapy?!

Dark Room Dream

I thought I would share my dream weirdness before I fall back to sleep and forget it.

I was in a dark room with some other people, at least two men I didn’t recognise, and somebody I knew but I can’t remember who. I was dressed in a black Victorian costume, they seemed to be old cowboys and spoke in Wild West accents.

Hanging on the wall was a line of dead cowboys, and one of the men suggested that, since they no longer needed their boots, we could have the heels from them for our boots. I looked down at my boots and saw they needed new heels.

So as the men proceeded to take the heels from the dead men’s boots, I went upstairs to watch from the gallery.

All of a sudden, I was attacked by two women who said they wanted my nice little gold earrings! I tried to fight them off, but I could not prevail, and as one of them thrust some kind of metal spike towards my face, I woke up in a panic.

What does it mean? Whatever could have taken me to such a bizarre scenario?! Nothing I have read or watched recently comes remotely close to this scene.

As it turns out, I have indigestion, so my dinner may be the culprit. But why this dream? Where do they come from?

Out in the cold, dark night

So here we are, almost nine weeks after moving out of our rented house, from which we were being evicted, into the brand spanking new housing association property. Minus the mold and the awful landlord and letting agents, but also minus carpets and curtains, the gardens, the fabulous view and minus the dining room, the built-in wardrobes. (We’re also still waiting for our deposit to bé returned) I could go on, but I’m trying not to dwell on the negatives.

One negative I am really struggling with though is the lack of landline phone and internet. Thank God for my mobile phone, but it is costing me almost as much to run this mobile as our only phone and internet source as it was to run broadband and wifi for the whole house before.

Nine weeks is long enough, don’t you think? If I had a choice not to use BT I would certainly vote with my feet, but of course they rely on your inability to go to anybody else for a landline.

I have been through a few traumatic events in the last few years, so in one way I’m used to it, but in another, I feel battle-worn and weary, traumatised too many times.

I’m basically middle-aged now. I thought that by now we would have a stable, comfortable home with a stable, comfortable network of friends and family around us. Nothing could bé further from the truth.

Needless to say, my health has taken a turn for the worse in the last few weeks, to the extent that – apart from a few necessary errands – I am mostly needing to lay down in bed in my room. Even sitting up is too painful, my neck feels unable to hold my head up for long.

I had a conversation on Saturday morning with a pentecostal friend, and I mentioned my ill health, so she said a prayer online which she asked me to agree to, which I did, but then she said “Now we have done ‘spiritual warfare’ and you are healed. Don’t invite back the spirit of infirmity.”

I have spent some time in pentecostal churches, so it shouldn’t have surprised me but I was taken aback. If only life were that simple!

The problem with having such a simplistic worldview is that it becomes inevitably judgemental – if you don’t get well, if your circumstances don’t improve, you must have failed in some way, failed to adequately wage spiritual warfare, had a lack of faith, spoken negative words to “invite” negativity back into your life! (Remember the ‘Secret’?)

Unfortunately, unless you want a potentially self-defeating argument, you learn to have to watch what you say around people with this kind of thinking. I feel another sense of loss that I can’t trust this friend with my true thoughts and feelings.

Anyway, our big news is that, in view of our circumstances, in view of my health, our finances, my husband’s age (over 50 now), we don’t intend to pursue adoption.

That decision comes with another terrific sense of loss and grief and guilt, but we left it too late I think. I wish we had looked into it ten years ago, but on the other hand it would not have been good to put adopted children through what we have been through in the last few years. It looks like it just wasn’t meant to bé. (Either that, or I didn’t wage enough spiritual warfare. Joke.) 😦

I dreamt last night that there were a bunch of children that weren’t mine out in the shed, out in the wet cold night, and one of them broke into the house and threatened me with a gun. Somehow I knew that they were out there, and I was more shocked that I hadn’t let them in than that this child was standing in front of me with a gun. Dreams are stupid, but I expect that’s the guilt talking. I would let you in, but I don’t think I would bé very much good for you.

My Father is the King

I thought I would share a dream. I dream a lot, but it is rare that I recall the dream, so when I do I like to look for significance. It’s probably a little silly, so you’ll have to humour me.

I dreamt that I was having trouble with money – I had lost or mislaid my bank card and when I went to the bank, I couldn’t find any ID to prove my identity or my entitlement at the bank.

I was invited into a room at the back, where there was a large table around which were seated various stuffy old men and skinny women in smart suits. I felt quite scruffy and dishevelled. I had to go through my bag to look for any papers that might prove who I was.

Then suddenly, the door to the room burst open, and somebody rushed in to say “The Owner of the bank has regained his memory!”

“Oh dear!” I said.

When asked why, I responded, “The owner of the bank is my grandfather, and last time we spoke, I was in trouble for something or other, I don’t remember exactly what it was.”

“The owner of the bank is your grandfather?” The woman to the left of me asked, astonished. “Well, why didn’t you say? Why, if you had told us, of course your privileges at the bank would be restored!”

I looked at her for a moment, wondering, and said “I suppose I had forgotten it myself.”

Who knows where these weird dreams come from? My grandfather used to tell tall tales of having come from nobility, land and money, and having had to renounce it all in order to marry a commoner. (I don’t know what my grandma would have said. Funnily enough I don’t ever remember him telling these tales when she was in the room!)

Then, on my father’s side, when my cousin traced our family tree a few years ago, he claims we go back – via Ireland and via France earlier on – to the Royal line through the wicked King John, brother of Richard the Lionheart.

I suppose the thought that we once had a better life is always in the back of my mind. So, at the moment, are money troubles of various kinds. I really did go into the bank last week only to find I had no identification.

It all swirls around in the dream and comes out as a different story.

Then this morning, I opened a book of prayers (actually “Breakthrough Prayers for Women” by K & C Richards) and the words at the beginning of the devotion today were:

“You are a daughter of the King. He has a plan and purpose for you.”

I have been feeling really rather folorn and sorry for myself the last few weeks, drifting around without any sense of plan or purpose, frustrated that my hopes and dreams seem to be thwarted at every turn.

I don’t have the energy to fight it at the moment, so I am just shrugging my shoulders and allowing myself to be blown along on the wind.

I don’t know whether there is a grand Plan and Purpose for my life. But it’s nice to think that there might be.

Honeymoon at Home

I had a most interesting and confusing dream, and I like to record them so I remember them better (you know how easily dreams disappear like a puff of smoke!) So I am sharing it, for whatever it’s worth. Feel free to psycho-analyse 🙂

~~~~
I dreamt that Mark and I had got married (again) and that we were honeymooning at home in a big house, but that he had hurt his arm building a new room…

…I went out and was trying to find my way. I borrowed a bike at a big roundabout, and asked a policeman. I asked if he spoke English and when he did, I said I was glad because my Hebrew wasn’t very good! Then I asked for Queensbury Circle in London! The policeman told me I had a man’s bike that was too high for me, and I would be more comfortable if I went back and swapped it for a lady’s bike.

I arrived at a building where a Jewish comedian was being advertised as doing a show, and other people were handing out leaflets condemning him, saying his show was bad for Israel.

I now had a baby in a pram and I was in a rush.

One of the people handing out leaflets was my old friend Karen. She asked me, “how is your ex-husband”, meaning Mark. I answered “he is my husband again”. Then she asked, “is that your baby?” I turned back and smiled and said “yes” but I rushed on.

I went home to see my husband and asked him if he was feeling better, but his arm was still hurting.
~~~

I was woken up by a rogue alarm that went off at 7am on the bank holiday! (Thank-you, children!)

Well, all of this is weird and I hardly know where to start. Firstly, as far as I know, there is no thought of divorce or separation, and I hope there never will be!

I like the idea of a big new house. Maybe the new room is for the baby?

Honeymooning at home? Not very imaginative.

Queensbury, London, in Israel?

And I have a man’s bike? Too high for me?

And the hurting arm?

But the idea of a new baby in a pram is a nice one. Almost worth getting divorced for! 🙂

P.s. In the dream, he had cut off all his beautiful long, head-banging hair. I told him I won’t marry him again if the hair comes off 🙂

Why am I Hiding?

I dreamed a dream in which I was hiding, running, moving backstage through dark corners, behind curtains, around stairwells, navigating through a maze of books and belongings.

I was in a school. I didn’t know to begin with what I was hiding from, until I became aware that I was being pursued.

I was being pursued by a man in a light brown coat and scarf. He was of indeterminate age and features. He reminded me somehow of Mulder from the X-files. Something about his manner frightened me.

I turned around to see that he had been waylaid by a young girl. She might have been about twelve. She had light red hair in bunches. Her uniform was navy blue. She was talking to him about art and literature. They seemed engrossed in conversation. I wondered if he was really pursuing me at all? Perhaps I had imagined it.

But then she turned away from him and he was waylaid once again by a group of children who all wanted his attention.

The girl came toward me and moaned, “I am looking for the writer” and I answered and said, “You had his attention already. Why did you come to me?”

And then I looked at the man, and I knew that he was me.

I woke up. It was nearly 4am. I was a little bit dazed and confused, and wondered what it meant, when I realised the little girl was me too.

I’ll ponder the symbolism in the morning. In the meantime, I just thought I would share it as I quite liked it. My best stories come to me straight out of my dreams. 🙂