Wednesday, December 23, 2009
It started with the evil ducks and their glowing red eyes who surrounded the house.
My husband was concerned that The Beast was having these dreams. “Where did these evil ducks come from?! What has she been watching on TV? She is only three—how does she know they are evil? How does she know what evil is?”
“For heavens sakes—they are dreams—dreams are always odd.” I said. Unconcerned about what seemed, to me, like a perfectly normal dream.
I have always had graphic dreams that tend to be beautiful and sometimes highly disturbing—A bright aqua sea with huge, warm, beautiful waves washing up on the deck of my ferry as I cross I a large body of water that I can only assume is the Aegean Sea.... Flying just above treetops of a dark forest without the aid of wings... Playing on a beach with waves that change colors as they crash on shore... Picking my way through bloody bodies on subway stairs in a war torn city that looks vaguely like New York City, but not quite.
It was not until I met my husband and started telling him my dreams did I realize that perhaps they were not THAT normal.
The Beast continued to have dreams of beauty and terror--Monsters in jewel covered caves that had to be beaten back by The Beast with her magic arrow. Strange worlds that exist under the earth that are hidden behind secret doors in a town made completely of fancy woodwork….We could never find a TV show that would account for these wild nighttime flights of imagination.
I am pretty sure these psychedelic dreams come from my side of the family. My mother had them, I have them. My brother and sister used to share the same dreams and they would wake up singing the same song from their shared dream.
Who knows where these dreams really come from? Perhaps another lifetime or another world that has seeped into our psyche while we sleep.