This week’s Finish the Sentence Friday is, “While I was sleeping, I dreamt…” I can’t come up with anything poetic to go with it because my dreams are like the subject of autism. Too much info. They should be a book…
In my youth, I dreamt of a tiger who protected me from harm. In one nightmare, I was being chased by a guy who just shot me, and a tiger showed up on a motorcycle and whisked me away into safety.
Then I started having semi-psychic dreams of a boy in high school for 15 years for no obvious reason. I still have them, but no where near as frequent as I used to. Most of the dreams, we are saving the world, and I almost die, and he saves me. When we run, he has to carry me because I run too slow. When we drive, he has to drive because he’s a neurotic control freak more so than I am. In real life, all of that would be true.
As the spirits started becoming part of my life, I dream a lot of being in hell: what many would call nightmares. Mind you, my dreams are so vivid, sometimes they feel more real than reality… I’ve been dumped in a pit of snakes several times, eaten alive, sliced in half and kicked into black water, drilled into, had my feet in a meat grinder, been shot at repeatedly over and over, got punched repeatedly over and over… Some I fight back. Most I fight back.
Once I had a dream where an angel was carrying me over a city. I kissed his arm, and he dropped me. Then he caught me and we soared into a pink cloud the color of the sunset, and inside it a huge building with pillars the size of a house. He laid me on a stone table, and ever since that dream, I’ve been healing and improving.
Now I dream of a new man, one I call, “The man of my dreams.” I think he’s evil, but he has good in him as I’ve seen the Force. Most of my dreams are us trying to find each other, like I’m with him, but I’m not me, and I’m trying to explain where I am. Most of the torture I endure were at his hands, but the best dreams I ever had were also at his hands.
In one dream, he asked me if I ever heard the song, “Don’t let the Sun go Down on Me.” I awoke and listened to the lyrics. It was very deep, so in a future dream, I requested he sing Purple Rain, and those lyrics I mean back at him.
So this guy isn’t just a dream hottie. We are speaking in song.
And he’s incredibly romantic. In one dream, we had a date haunting a house stealing their wine and talking about life, and then we danced naked in a nonsexual way. As romantic as that is, the conversations we have… he is one of the few people who I am truly interested in hearing his opinion.
But with all heaven and hell, good and evil aside… there is my favorite creature of hell. The Beast.
In one dream, I was in this land like earth, but alien like. These people threw me in a den like ancient Rome and had various beasts attack me. I killed each beast by hand until the last beast: some sort of lion. I couldn’t kill him. Something just told me not to on an instinctive level. He didn’t attack me either. We just both stood there declaring mutiny to whoever wanted us to fight. So I gave him as a gift to The Beast.
Months later, I dreamt that I was in a part of hell even Satan wouldn’t dare venture on his own, and my beast that I didn’t kill came and saved me. I rode his back to his master (triple 6), and his master told me it was the beast I didn’t kill. His name is “Muck.”
Months later, I dreamt that I was being covered in poison, and Muck licked the poison off of me to his own death. But then I prayed, and my prayer saved his life and he got better.
I now believe Muck is with me in spirit, along my side, and I hope to see him again when I die.
For years I dreamed of men, hoping these dreams meant something, that there was some guy out there somewhere who gave a damn. Maybe they were true love dreams. Maybe they were just spiritual connections. Both are greater than life enough to appreciate, but the beast is who made me feel safe. He is who made me feel loved by dream alone. If my dreams taught me anything, it’s that the bond between man and beast is just as necessary to our beings as one between lovers. It is a love of its own, one that is unlike romance and parenthood. It’s probably the only place you are going to find someone who actually takes care of you as much, if not more, than you take care of him.
As soon as I can get a pet, I’m naming him Muck. I rent. I could get a pet as an emotional support animal and my landlord can’t do anything about it, but I know my landlord. He’ll find something else to get me for because of the pet.
If you have a pet. Give him a good hug and know, he would probably lick poison off your body to his own doom to save you.
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