Dream: Monday, April 5, 2010

I’d had a dream the previous night that was very disturbing, and the effect of it stuck with me all day. I almost had to get up before 6 when I woke up from it just to “shake off”  its effect and think about something else. It was a dream of extreme sadness and loss. And part of it entailed literally being “flushed down the rabbit hole”; I thought I might have died (in the dream). At the very least, I was gone from earth as I knew it. I’ve written this dream up below:

I had a bad night sleeping, and was up roughly from 3 – 5 AM, just laying there listening to the Coast to Coast guest. It was about the Shroud of Turin. But that’s not my point here, although the author of the book made some interesting points about how that may have come about. I finally fell back to sleep I guess around 5 AM and was jolted awake at 5:30 by a very disturbing dream. It still makes me feel weird thinking about it, and I almost had to get up then just to try to walk around and “shake it off”. The first 2 parts of the dream I guess sort of led to the last part, but they don’t seem that relevant now this morning. A coworker had decided to sell all the plants I’d brought in to the office over time, and she was having this kind of in-office bonanza sale, selling off all my plants that were not hers to sell. I confronted her about it, and she just kind of blew me off like what I was saying was meaningless, but a couple of people (not all of them) waiting in the line to buy realized what I was saying and left her sale. Somewhere else in this much larger office than it is in reality, I bumped into one of the doctors. This doctor had done something really weird with his hair; he had started balding, and his solution to this was to let the remaining hair spots grow longer, and they all stood out from his head in this sort of wild frenzied way that made him look like some kind of freak. For some reason this Asian guy from the movie Sixteen Candles keeps popping into my head here. It was very unprofessional looking for a doctor. I stood there talking to him, and I was trying to take him seriously, as it was a serious patient matter that we were talking about, and yet looking like that, it was difficult. Then I had to get on an elevator to go to another part of the office. One elevator door had just closed, and I stopped the other just in time to get on with a pretty large crowd of people; about the maximum for the elevator. I did not know any of these people, but I guess it was a public elevator in the building, and not just our office. We started to move. But then it seemed like we should have reached our destination and we didn’t seem to be moving anymore, and the doors didn’t open. People started murmuring things. I looked behind me and noticed that the elevator had clear sides now and that you could see outside. And it was clearly not moving. Everyone else had by now noticed this too, and we were looking out over the scenery, which was like a town. I’m reminded perhaps of sitting at the top of the road that I grew up on, which is at the top of a hill, but we are higher than the trees and looking out over the hill towards the hospital, over the little neighborhood houses that line the streets. Before we even had a moment to decide what to do though, the elevator was in the street of the town, and had no top to it, just the sides, like we were all in sort of an open-air wagon now, or more like a really big hot-air balloon basket. That’s kind of what it felt like, you’d have to have climbed out of it to get out. I started looking at the people in the “elevator” around me, and there were a couple of children – 2 girls – and they had started to grow these thin pointed fangs out of 2 of their bottom teeth, like a cat would have.  Sharp, thin and pointed, just like a cat’s.  It’s possible that they’d been like that all along, and I just hadn’t noticed. Some of the other people really freaked me out too, because now they seemed more like “Matrix agents” – their eyes had a weird way of not being able to focus on you, and they were kind of electronic looking. I guess there were about 12 of us or so, and I was quickly beginning to realize that I’d gotten on the wrong elevator. I pulled out my cell phone, and was desperately trying to dial Bob, but the phone was doing something really weird. I attributed it to something with my cell-phone provider; it seemed like they had to deliver me some inane ad before I could use the phone, so I was delayed in dialing or texting, which was what I’d hoped to do – dash a text off to Bob about this bizarre weirdness that was unfolding. But my phone had to finish what it was doing first, and then it was too late, because someone onthe street announced that we had to turn over all cell phones. We were not in the “elevator” at this point, we were on a sidewalk in front of a building. Someone was collecting the phones in a box on the sidewalk – a big box, and everyone was turning them over. I hesitated because I had not been able to contact anyone yet. I really wanted to get some message sent off, but I was not being allowed. They wanted my phone, and now I was the last one. For whatever reason, everyone else had turned theirs in without question, and they were certainly much nicer than my pathetic phone. I had a momentary thought of just bolting. Why not? What or who was to stop me? But I looked around, and it seemed like I had entered a place where everyone around me was now involved in some sort of conspiracy of control. At a glance, it had the look of any other town, any place; but there was something else. And it was pretty clear to me that me and my little group with the fang-children were being controlled and corralled, and I clearly better cooperate. The consequence of a “bolt”was probably going to be my life. I threw the phone in the box contemptuously, and nearly hit the man collecting them on the head when I did so, but he reacted unusually calmly. Then we were all very quickly ushered, without any more to-do, to another world. It was like being flushed down the rabbit hole. Where we came out is already pretty fuzzy to me; the only thing that is not fuzzy is the feeling I now had. Because somehow I knew – just knew – that this was a permanent change, and that since my desperate effort to contact someone in my world before I “left” had failed, that they would never know what had happened to me and they would never see me again. Thoughts of Bob and our children whirled through my head as I envisioned the deep pain they would experience not knowing what had happened to me.  And the deep, deep and utter sadness and loss of this moment was the feeling that I woke up with as the irreversibility of this event, or whatever it was, settled over me, and somehow I was also hearing (myself calling??) “BOB!, BOB!”, loudly in my head, and I was the jolted awake in our own bed, with a heavy feeling over my chest and a painful grip around my heart. My first thought, as I adjusted to the fact that I was still okay in our room, was,
“Is she here?”
Joe was asleep on the bed, and then casually got up and walked to the end of it and jumped on the floor like nothing was amiss – so I am guessing she was not there. There is just one other element to this dream that I have trouble interpreting and it has to do with the potential for time travel. It was when the sadness was enveloping me in such a complete way, that it seemed like there was almost no point in going on. There was some other element to that. It had to do with communication. I can’t really describe it, but even without the phone or any other means, there seemed to be kind of an albeit dim “light” or a beckoning in my subconscious that led me to believe on some level that at some point, I would be able to communicate the important information that I needed to. That it might take me years or centuries to learn it, but that my departure from “my world” did not have to be as complete or as permanent as it seemed at that moment. And that I may someday be able to contact the people that I loved. It was just a tiny little glimmer of hope that was beginning to open up like a little sliver of light in the midst of this complete and utter darkness. But the sadness and the overwhelming inalterability of my current circumstances was the predominant feeling over everything else. It was almost on the level of realizing that you have just lost your entire family in a house fire or bad car accident, and life as you know it is just completely and inalterably over. So, this dream over, I wanted to get up and walk around and shake it off. But I didn’t. I needed more sleep – I had a long day/night of work ahead of me, so, fitfully again, I did finally fall back to sleep for a bit. It is now later in the morning, and I can’t shake the emotion of this dream. And I keep having chest pain, and that is starting to concern me. Later that evening when Bob and I talked, I was not even able to reiterate the dream because the emotion it had caused me was still just too intense. I told him in a general way about it, I just didn’t explain all the details. Especially the intense sadness part. It was too hard. And it may have absolutely nothing to do with anything. That is always possible, is it not? We know how dreams are.


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