I woke up this morning from a dream that was physically and emotionally exhausting. And I’m speaking of the type of dream that we have while sleeping, not the dream which we sometimes refer to as our goal or prayer.
I remember that I’ve had a couple powerful dreams in the past 25 years or so. But unfortunately, I did not take the opportunity to document or write about it. Until today, I remember vividly one single powerful dream I had when I was in 4th year High School. Now having a blog, I take this opportunity to write about this dream I had this morning, so that I can refer back to it in the future.
Let me first share with you an experience with a very powerful dream I had in highschool. And then I’ll share the dream I had this morning and a few thoughts I have of it.
Adolescent Dreams and a healing of the heart
When I was in 3rd year high school, I had a relationship with a young girl whom I’ll call Chess. Chess was a freshman at the time. We had grown into a sort of MU, puppy love thingy (funny how I describe it now :D ). And then summer came and we lost touch for two months. We came back to school, I was in my senior year and she a sophomore. My relationship with Chess had gone cold. I had what I referred to as a “summer syndrome” — in simple adolescent terms, “I fell out of love” .
I was fine with that, I went through my days as if things were normal. In the meantime, Chess watched from afar as the distance between us grew wider and wider. She didn’t have a chance to understand what happened to me. I didn’t bother to explain.
Things went back to normal with more than a quarter into the year. And then the dream. I won’t go through the details in this essay. But at the end of the dream, I find Chess standing in front of the girls’ dorm, her back facing me. I tap her on the shoulder. She turns to face me and I see her crying. End of dream.
I wake up and the dream remains vivid. I am bothered by the dream the whole morning. Finally in the afternoon, I approach Chess for the first time in many months. I tell her about the dream and ask her what she thinks of it. I specifically ask her if it means anything to her, because if it doesn’t, I woud dismiss the dream from my thoughts. Chess tells me that my dream means a lot. And she continues to explain all her feelings for me and all that she had gone through the past months while the distance between us drew further. I said my apologies, made things up, and we both started to heal from our first experience with a broken heart.
Whew! That was when I was 16 years old!
My message now: Vivid and emotional dreams mean something. I have discovered this fact when I was 16 and I come back to it today after waking from another vivid and emotional dream.
Like running in water
This morning I had a dream. It felt like I was in an international conference in a “far far away place” like the carribean, or hawaii or havana (thanks to the James Bond movies for the imagery).
I was in a breezy, laid back hotel in my walking shorts and a floral shirt. I was walking with my best friend Jorey, and we were about to go off to downtown for an afternoon of gallavanting. We come across another conference participant who tells us that there’s going to be an event in a few hours. I decide to put on a pair of pants. So I make my way to my hotel room which is just 2 floors above where we were, and I could see my hotel room from where I was along the corridor.
I’m used to walking fast. I walk from my home to work everyday. I walk fast when I’m rushing to get things done quickly. I walk fast when I’m off to my next appointment and running a bit late. So I did the same in my dream as I rushed to my room to put on a pair of pants.
Or so I tried. I knew it was simple enough to go to my room, put on a pair of pants and go back to where Jorey was wating for me. But it took forever for me to reach my room. I got lost amidst the hotel corridors and staircases. I found myself always within view of my room, but apparently was going further and further from my room instead of going closer.
And the most frustrating thing about this supposedly simple walk to my room was — it was extremely effortful! I tried with so much strength to walk quickly towards my room. But it felt like there was something physically preventing me from taking steps forward. It was like walking in neck deep water, you just couldn’t walk fast. It was as if there were cobwebs holding me back, keeping me from moving forward. I could see myself with a fully alert mind, just watching my arms and legs move forward in slow motion. It was exhausting!
I even saw an old lola along the street. Yes, street, a dirt road — by this time, I could see the hotel and my room at a distance and I was at the street, distant as ever from my room. The lola was giving me directions on how to reach my hotel room and I smiled at her because she couldn’t help me firgure out why I was walking in slow motion.
I grew tired. And I woke up. And later I wrote about this dream. And now you’re reading it.
I’m tired. It’s funny because it’s the start of the year and I’m tired. I’m tired from my dream. I’m emotionally tired from my current reality.
I’m afraid to understand. Frankly, I’m afraid to understand my dream. Because I’m afraid of what it may mean. I’m afraid of facing what my dream means to me.
I end here, now. I publish this story without much flare. I’m not writing to impress. I’m just writing because I feel moved to write.
This is me.