Strange Dreams--as usual

[chochiyo_sama]

 

Last night, I had another strange--almost incomprehensible dream.  It was quite long and involved, and had many bits to it, but of course, I can only remember some of it this morning.  I woke up from the dream at 3:30 am and decided (after taking an eventful stroll to the bathroom) that I should write it down immediately.  So, I fired up the laptop (which always rests on my bed next to me as I sleep) to write it down.  It takes the laptop a bit to fire up.  Apparently it takes a bit too long as I woke up again at 5:30 am with my head on the keyboard and the screen blank as it had powered itself DOWN again.

At this point, I decided "screw it," I'll do it in the morning.  So, much of the exquisite detail of the dream is lost in the oblivion.

The gist of my dream is that my family, friends, and I were living in a totalitarian/fascist society  (just like real life with the Bush administration).  I was working in a field with several people, including a woman who may have been Joan Baez...the dream was not clear on this point.  I was my usual young dream-self--somewhere between ten and twelve years old.  I was wearing scruffy jeans and a dirty faded lime green tee shirt.  My hair was hanging in my face, as I recall.  I was wearing some really worn out rubber-toed tennis shoes.  Many of the other people, including the Joan Baez woman, were barefoot.  Obviously we were the peasant class.

She looked like this--perhaps a little older.   She was wearing sort of colorless dungarees.  Her hair was long and curly and blew back over her shoulders in the wind.  There were streaks of gray in her hair, so I know she was older than in this picture.

She and I were planting a row of begonias, red and peach colored ones, in a long furrow between the rows of corn.  As we were planting them, I felt a bit uneasy, thinking that we were likely to get in trouble for planting flowers when we were supposed to be planting corn.  It was odd, because there was a long, long furrow in the earth, and we put begonias in one by one from a large flat of them, and mounded the soil up around their stems.  The people planting corn next to us were planting it in the same way.  Instead of putting seeds into the ground, they were putting each small corn plant (about 3" tall) into the ground one by one and mounding the soil up around it. 

     <--Begonias

The woman, whom I will call Joan for the sake of convenience, seemed to know how I felt.  She put her hand on my head and said (in that rich, melodious Joan Baez voice), "Beauty is as essential for our survival as food is." 

I was sitting on the ground at this point, digging a hole in the dirt for the next begonia, and I looked up at her standing over me, framed by the sun, with all that dark hair billowing around her shoulders, and I LOVED her.  It was a strong sensation that just swelled inside me.  It was a love-for-a-mentor/parent-figure kind of love.  She knelt beside me and plopped the next begonia, a red one, into the earth, and we both pushed the dirt around the roots together.  Our hands were dirty and rough, and there was dirt under our fingernails.

The field had a hard packed earth road running down the center of it, and rows stretching for as far as the eye could see on either side of it.  At this point a group of men walked toward us from the far end of the field.  One of the men was a tall thin fellow in a dark blue uniform.  (For some reason, I think of the French foreign legion when I think about this uniform.  I don't believe the French foreign legion had anything to do with it, but that's what it made me think of.)  He had a think mustache and side burns.  He wore small, round, wire rim glasses that were kind of coppery colored.  The rest of the men were more indistinct, wearing lighter colored clothing--kind of sand-colored uniforms that were just pants and button up shirts and boots.

I don't remember what came next exactly, I only know  that they came to take Joan away, claiming that she was an agitator and an enemy of the people.  Though I don't think it was stated directly, I knew they were taking her away to execute her.  Sorrow and despair welled up inside me, and I wrapped my arms around her leg, resting my face against her knee.  I don't remember the men's response to this, but I think they said they'd be happy to take me away too, if that's what I wanted. 

Joan disentangled me from her leg, patted my head, and said something along the lines of this was her destiny and my responsibility was to follow my own path.  I think she told me to look after the begonias.  Her eyes were clear and fearless and undefeated.  She walked between two of the men in sand-colored uniforms with her back straight and her head high.  I sat in the dirt, holding a begonia in my hands, and watched the puffs of dirt stirred up by her bare feet as she walked away.  I cried--but I didn't make any noise.  I was ashamed because I wanted to run after the men and attack them and SAVE her, but I was afraid--and I knew I was too small and weak to do anything but watch them walk away.

*************

The stars represent that which is lost to my subconscious mind.

The next part I remember is being in a room--it was in an attic, I think, because it was high up, and the walls were unfinished.  just bare boards.  The ceiling was low, and it seems there were several other people about my own age in there as well.  I lay in a small single bed with a metal frame.  I was sad and afraid.  I could hear my mother breathing in the next room--she was having a hard time breathing and sounded like she was having the "death rattle"--in the dream I knew she was very sick and would die soon.  I lay there contemplating the bleakness of my future--my mom would soon be dead, and Joan (who was apparently someone very significant to me though I don't know why) was gone.  After a while, I quietly got out of my bed, and crept to the end of the room where there was a small alcove.  There was a playwood divider set into grooves which I lifted out and stepped behind before replacing it into the grooves.  Behind it was a very tiny cubicle where my mother slept in a double bed with a lot of blankets and quilts over her.  Her chest rattled and her breathing was labored.  Opposite her bed was a small narrow bed with a patch work quilt on it--lots of red squares as I recall.  I lay down in that and faced my mom, watching her chest rise and fall.

There was much more to the dream than that, but that's all I remember clearly.

The biggest thing that I remember of this is the sense of powerlessness. 

Quite a bit like the powerlessness I feel under the regime of the current administration.

I have no clue what this dream might mean or where it came from, but it was certainly highly detailed.  I wish I had not passed out at 3:30--I might have managed to squeeze more of it from my head.

Oh, well.   Such is life.

 

 

Comments

[kumardm.livejournal.com]

What a strange dream and amazing how much you remember. Did you have a lingering depressed or disturbed feeling for most of the next day? I sometimes feel them emotion long after but not necessarily know the whys. Are you worried about your mom's health lately?

Metaphorical Dreams

[chochiyo-sama.livejournal.com]

I don't really think it was about my mom at all. I think she was a metaphor for my "motherland."

The current regime weighs heavy on my mind. Seriously. The fact that my country justifies torturing civilians (some of them children as young as 12) is very difficult for me to cope with.

I am appalled and astounded that there are not people rioting in the streets about what's going on in our government--but nothing is happening other than a few others like myself ranting on discussion boards.

"All that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing." But what do you do?

Is this really the way it's going to be forever? God, I'm glad I'm old. I'd hate to be 20 and have this kind of political atmosphere settling over me.

Re: Metaphorical Dreams

[kumardm.livejournal.com]

I know it may seem cliche but don't forget to pull yourself out of big picture despair and focus on being the beginning of a ripple in the pond by loving (and being loved by) and cherishing the people in your local sphere.