Dreams

I'm a dreamer, always have been. I dream to explore the possibilities, to escape reality, to expand on things I've read. My mind tends to wander when I'm bored, stressed, when I'm thinking hard to solve problems.  Many of my dreams have become books. 

Many fellow writers have the same experience, turning dreams into print.  I'm not alone out there in fantasyland, dreaming up fairy tales and people we'd like to be, make believe, fiction, writing the impossible and making it possible.  

Why dreams? Were they created for a purpose? A higher purpose? Often when I think on complex issues I turn to the Bible for answers.  I wondered just how many people did God speak to in dreams either directly with words or with visions?  

Abimelek, Jacob, Joseph, the cupbearer and baker, Pharaoh (Genesis 41), a man (Judges 7), Solomon, and Nebuchadnezzar, Daniel. God spoke to Moses, Aaron, Miriam, Job, and others but not in a dream. 

Are all dreams from God? Obviously not.  In Numbers 12:6 God says, "When there is a prophet among you, I, the Lord, reveal myself to them in visions, I speak to them in dreams."

But, we are warned to be on guard against those who make claims.  " “I have heard what the prophets say who prophesy lies in my name. They say, ‘I had a dream! I had a dream!’ ²⁶ How long will this continue in the hearts of these lying prophets, who prophesy the delusions of their own minds?²⁷ They think the dreams they tell one another will make my people forget my name, just as their ancestors forgot my name through Baal worship. ²⁸ Let the prophet who has a dream recount the dream, but let the one who has my word speak it faithfully."

I believe God still speaks to us.  He impresses upon our hearts his desires, his will.  It is our "conscience".  If we are still, quiet, and obedient we can hear his voice.  It may not be as clear as it was in the Old Testament, but He is alive and well and active in this world.  These days, I still dream, daydream, wonder and while I do I try to steer it in God's direction. The characters in my books usually manage to drift towards God, seeking his face.  Often purposefully, sometimes not. 

This is a bit of meandering post, I think because my mind still wonders and wanders, searching God.  I know Him and He knows me and I know He knows me because I search for him....in my dreams and in my reality.  

Next I will share two dreams that I had recently that intertwined.   Share your dreams with me.

In My Head 2.3

Part 3 of the airplane dream:

An orderly wheeled Erin back into her new room.  This time it was occupied by a large black man whose leg was held together with a metal frame.  The other person was a tall, dark-haired doctor. 

"Hey, it's Lucky," the patient said to the doctor.

"Your doctors thought you should have a roommate," said the orderly.

"Hi.  I'm Sean."

"Who is Lucky?" asked Erin.

"You, of course," answered the doctor.  "Since you don't have a name, the nurses started calling you Lucky."

"Seriously? My body is being held together with coat hangers and you think I'm lucky?" Erin was perturbed. 

"By all rights you should be dead," said Sean.  "No one survives falling out of an airplane."

"Just because I'm breathing doesn't make me lucky," said Erin. "Why are you here?"

"Hard tackle. I play pro football.  Broke my leg in several places."

"You're alive. Does that make you lucky? Could be a career-ending injury."

"His helmet protected his head," began the doctor, "so I would say yes. He is fortunate he only broke a leg.  Luck is more of an attitude and how you deal with your situation."

Erin thought about what the doctor said. He had a good point.  Just then the door opened and in walked her doctor. 

The two doctors greeted each other then they turned to Erin.

"I have just met with the radiologist.  We can take the hardware out everywhere except your hands.  However you will need braces on your feet and arms."

"What about..." Erin motioned towards her face.

"All that's coming off as well."

Erin nodded, happy with the news.  "Then what?"

"Therapy. That's why you've been moved to the orthopedics wing. You start therapy tomorrow."

"Is he one of my doctors now?" Erin pointed to the other doctor.

"No," he answered.  I work with professional athletes."

Erin cocked her head in thought. She wanted to say something but couldn't quite formulate the words that went with a brief memory.  "Will my therapy be in the same place as the athletes?"

"Some will."

Later that day Erin was taken back to the OR where her hardware was removed.  When she awoke from the anesthesia, back in her room, several large athletic-looking men were sitting next to Sean.  They had not noticed she was awake  She looked around at her body which was covered with a blanket. The tell-tale signs of metal was gone. Just to make sure, Erin lifted an arm.  "Oh, God!" she exclaimed when she felt the pain from moving stiff, atrophied muscles."

"Hey, Lucky's awake," said one of the men. 

"You okay? Want me to call a nurse?" asked Sean.

"I'm okay.  I feel different." Erin reached her hand towards her face, but didn't have the strength.  The sight of the pins in her fingers and the realization that her facial bandages were gone made her extremely uncomfortable. 

"You look great," Sean tried to reassure her.

Erin was unable to respond.

"I don't know what you looked like before," said one of the men, "but you don't need to be embarrassed."

"Maybe we should go," said another who led the way out the door.

 "Who we're they?"

"My teammates.  I'm sorry we woke you."

"Its okay."

Thankfully, a nurse and an orderly walked in and broke the awkward silence.   The nurse checked Erin's IV then she was wheeled out to a large room with a giant bathtub.  Erin was strapped into a harness and lowered into the tub where she was gently bathed.  Even thought it was painful, Erin was grateful to be clean.  After the bath she was dressed in a clean gown, robe, and slippers.  The nurse told her the catheter would have to stay a little longer.  Erin was then wheeled into a gym-like room, placed on a low, padded table. She looked around the room at all of the equipment and patients. Sean was sitting on a bench with some sort of equipment hooked up to his broken leg. 

A therapist introduced herself then began by lifting one leg and moving it up and down ten times.  She repeated with the next leg and both arms.  Thus, the therapy began. 

  

In My Head, second story

"In My Head" this time is a completely unrealistic dream. Erin is afraid to fly. She would rather drive fourteen hours anywhere than drive to an airport. She befriends a man who owns a biplane. It is one of those old two-seaters you see in old movies where the pilot wears big round goggles, a leather helmet, and a long white scarf. He convinces Erin to take a ride in his airplane by promising her that she was in good hands. He was a very experienced pilot who had never had an accident. Even though Erin is apprehensive, nervous - afraid, she reluctantly agreed to go on a short ride. The pilot showed Erin every inch of the vintage airplane, from the propeller to the tail flaps. He then dressed her in the necessary leather helmet and goggles. As the engine revs, Erin gripped her seat tightly and tries keep from hyperventilating. The plane bounced down the runway then lifts off into the clear blue sky. Erin wanted to scream and throw up, however the blue sky and view of the landscape distracted her. She settled into her seat, relaxed a bit as the pilot lifts them higher into the sky. "Wanna do some tricks?" yelled the pilot over his shoulder. Erin objected vehemently, however, the pilot insists she must get the full experience of flight by doing a spin, a loop de loop, and other tricks. Reluctantly, Erin gave in. She tightened her seat belt, gets a death grip on her seat, and waited for the pilot to scare the life out her. The pilot sped up and did one spin on the plane's axis while Erin held her breath. She exhaled a few seconds after the plane stabilized. The pilot looked over his shoulder at her, gave a thumbs up, then drew a circular motion with his finger. Erin grimaced while her stomach turned a flip. Part of her wanted to demand the pilot to land. Another part, the 1% foolish part, wanted to stay and enjoy the scenery. The land disappeared as the plane turned skyward. Erin felt her heart stop beating briefly, then begin to pound loudly in her chest. She looked around at the sky. It was a beautiful bright blue. In the distance she saw what looked like another plane, but brushed the thought away...probably just a bird. A scream escaped her lips as the plane began its backwards turn. She looked around to try to get her bearings. Erin found the ground then sees it. Before being able to process what her eyes were glued to, Erin felt her body being sucked out of the biplane. She screamed and tried to reach down to grab the seatbelt. It tore away from the seat. Suddenly, Erin was free-falling towards the earth. Somehow, Erin managed to position herself face and abdomen facing the earth, arms and legs outstretched, like Superman. Thud!! Within seconds of her free flight, with her eyes shut tight, she landed on the wing of a 747 jumbo jet. As her hands grasped the edge of the wing she felt a searing pain in her face, hands, and throughout her entire body. With her eyes still shut tight she thought, "did I just hit the ground and live?" Painfully, Erin turned her head to the left and opened her eyes only to be face to face with a woman screaming through a small window. Several other people gather at the window to stare at her. "Oh my God," Erin exclaimed to herself. "I've landed on a plane!! What do I do now?" The people in the window point and yell. Were they trying to tell her something? Someone pressed a piece of paper to the window - "hold on, we're going to land ASAP." "Oh, sure. They're going to land," Erin moaned, "but I'm going to die." She turned her head, painfully, back to facing the wing and prepared herself to die. Her fingers are locked onto the airplane wing and she doesn't move even though she feels the force of the atmosphere pressing against her body. Erin's ears pop as the plane begins its descent. She knees as soon as it turned she would be sucked off the wing so she took a deep and painful breath and waited. Gradually, after what seemed like an eternity, Erin feels the plane slow even more. She looked to her right, with her eyes, and sees the earth. Trees, buildings. Erin tried to look left. The people in the window were still staring at her. A moment later she felt a small bump and instantly felt searing pain in her hands. "Are we on the ground?" she wondered. Sounds began to fill and hurt her head. Sirens, shouting, squealing breaks. Then voices shouting orders. "You're on the ground, miss! You made it!" Erin tried to speak but couldn't. The pain in her body became more evident. Her fingers were burning. "Try to let go, miss," he said, touching her hand. Erin let out a barely audible scream. "She can't move," the man said. "Try gently prying them off." "They'll break." "Probably already are. We got to get her down immediately," was the last thing Erin heard before blacking out. Muffled voices brought Erin out of her coma. She is unable to move any part of her body or open her eyes. "Uh, uh," she tried to speak but is unable. Her throat feels heavy. "Doctor, she's coming out of it." "Squeeze your eyes if you hear me," said a male voice. Erin squeezed her eyes and tried to open them but they were too heavy. She then tried to move her head, her fingers, her toes. Nothing moved. "She's coming around. Miss, If you can hear me squeeze your eyes again. Good. You're in the hospital. You had an accident and broke many bones, internal injuries. You have been in a coma for quite some time. Squeeze your eyes if you understand. Good. Don't try to speak. You've been intubated. When you're fully conscious we can take it out. Try to rest. I'll be back to check on you." Erin took a deep breath then fell back to sleep. Sometime later, when hearing voices in her room, Erin opened her eyes. Still unable to move, she looked around. Erin saw that her arms and fingers were held together with metal rods and wires that were sticking through her skin. A metal frame supported her torso and her legs were in casts. "I may as well be dead," thought Erin. "I'm completely broken." "Good morning," said a nurse. "I'll alert the doctor to see if we can get you extubated." Minutes later, the doctor arrived and the tubes were removed. A nurse had Erin sip some water from a straw. "Welcome back," said the elderly doctor with a broad smile. "What happened?" asked Erin. ....more next post....

In My Head.

In My Head. I love dreams. Daydreams, put myself to sleep dreams, even wake me up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat dreams. I love them because they are complete fantasy, not based on reality in any way. I can fly in dreams without getting sick. I can see underwater and not need my contacts. I can be tall and beautiful and perfect, courageous and a hero, or a celebrity with many talents in dreams. Maybe that's why I like Tolkien, Spielberg, and George Lucas. I like not having to do research or worry about "reality" such as location and laws and people thinking, "that could never happen." Fantastical fantasy but without the science fiction is in my head. Now I'd like to put it to paper. The very first dream that I can remember is one when I was around age 10. My family had just started going to church. Maybe I had religion on my mind. Perhaps other changes spurred on the dream. In any event, it was a recurring dream for many weeks. The large industrial room was dark, lit only by a few bare bulbs. The room was bare except for a long maze of conveyor belt. A cold, steel conveyor belt. Tied with rusty chains to the conveyor belt is a small, frail, 10-year-old girl. A figure cloaked in a black, hooded robe grins eerily as his arm reaches up to throw the switch. The little girl on the slowly moving belt screams and tries to break free. The cloaked figure laughs and taunts the little girl. She wiggles and twists and calls out for help. The cloaked figure follows from a distance, watching and waiting. She sees the danger as the belt turns a corner. Up ahead is a break, a small pause in the steel. Each end is lit up by a light bulb. The ends of the steel are razor sharp, like knife blades. Dangling just beneath the light bulb are ropes of chain. The little girl sees them and begins to wriggle and call out for help with more fury and determination. Moments before reaching the steel blades the little girl pulls her arms free. Again, she calls out for help. She screams out to the cloaked figure that he will not destroy her. The figure steps forward to secure his hold on the girl. Just before he reaches her, she reaches up, grabs the chains, swings her legs around and kicks the figure. He lands on the conveyor belt, onto the steel blades. The little girl once again calls out for help. The alarm clock rings and the dream ends.....for this night.