The Bridge and a White Dress

A dream from a little over a week ago (names changed)

I became aware of being in a room, a hotel perhaps, yet not closed off to the outside air that I could feel behind me.  I was getting ready to be married.  There were people getting things ready and more and more people were showing up.  Things were coming together.  I was getting my hair done and all that girly stuff that made me feel like I looked like a princess. 

As my brain started processing things, I realized that I was marrying my friend, Clint.  It had been very short notice, a day perhaps. I knew it was a good set up.  He was my friend. He would treat me well and could take care of me.  He was strong in the church. I would love to help raise his little girl.  It was all very fitting… wasn’t it? 

The more things started coming together, the more people were showing up and the more ready I was, the more I was unsettled and unsure.  Ultimately questioning if it was really what I was supposed to do.  Something didn’t feel right.

I knew that Billy would not be there, he was still on a week shift out in the desert.  All of this had happened whilst he was gone.  He would come back to find that I had gotten married.  I knew it would hurt him even though he had not chosen to see if we could take our relationship to that level when that was an option.  I couldn’t do that to him, I couldn’t hurt him like that.  But that was not my only doubt.

 In my dress I went to go see Clint.  I needed to know if he had any doubts, if he was sure he wanted to go through with this.

When I found him, he was almost dressed.  I expressed my doubts and asked him if he was sure.  He seemed hurt and frustrated.  I asked if he was ok with waiting to see if after few months we still wanted to get married. He told me that he was ready to get married now. I did not want to hurt him, yet felt that what would hurt him wasn’t the idea that I didn’t want to marry him, but more the idea that he wouldn’t have the label of being married.

I left.  As I walked away, I could feel my dress flowing around my legs and getting in my way.  I picked it up and walked toward the open back wall to get some air.  Outside I could see the beautiful desert expanse, full of the beautiful red rock, red dirt and the durable shrubbery that I love.  I could see the canyon that separated the building from the city in the distance.  Everybody seemed to be coming from that direction.  They all crossed over to the building via a narrow bridge that spanned the width of the canyon. 

I encountered my aunt among the people entering the building.  I informed her of my doubts and asked her advice.  She restated what I already knew, that Clint was a good man, my friend, LDS and would treat me well.  She also reminded me that everybody was here and that I should just marry him.  It felt as if she didn’t have hope that I would find anybody else who would fit me. 

I left her feeling horrible. Yes, everybody was here, it was all set up, it was a “good match”, but I was more and more certain that I didn’t want to marry Clint.  It did feel a shame to get everybody here and then miss the opportunity.  The thought crossed my mind that if Billy were there I’d marry him in a heartbeat. 

With that thought I knew the wedding was off.  I don’t know if I told Clint right there or if I wasn’t sure til I walked down the aisle and told him there, but next thing I know the wedding is off.  I was sitting out on the edge of the canyon in my wedding dress, leaning against a pole of the safety rail.  Around me were just a few friends, the ones that understood that I had done the right thing.  No one said anything.  Just their presence was comfort enough. 

I knew many did not understand and were frustrated.    

I stared at my hands.  One of my guy friends squatted down beside me and asked if it was because of him that I had called it off.  I was shocked at his narcissism, yet it made me smile because I knew that he had been interested in me.  I made sure to let him know, in the kindest way I could manage, that it was not.  I went back to staring at my hands. 

I thought about Billy.  Would he hear about all of this? Undoubtedly.  I didn’t know what to do- about calling off the wedding, about Billy, about anything. 

I looked over at the bridge to see if people were leaving but saw nobody crossing back over, only a lone figure part way across the bridge.

It was Billy!

He seemed to have a huge smile on his face. 

Why wasn’t he at work? How did he find out about this? Why was he smiling? Was he smiling because he was happy for me getting married? Or did he know that I had called it off?

My mind was racing. All I managed to do was look quickly back at my hands and watch them fidget. 

In my mind I was all too aware of him crossing the rest of the bridge and then approaching where I sat, in the dirt, in my dress, with my legs hanging off the edge of the rocks.  He stood above me. 

I could not bring myself to look up at him. I was too afraid of what he would say. He had the power to make the pain of the whole mess ultimately more unbearable or make my heart sing. 

I waited for him to speak.

Then I woke up. 

Rough Waters and Heartstones

The first part of my dream that I remember was following a man that was impoverished almost to the point of being a slave. He departed on a very shabby vessel that was taking him toward a place up river to work where the lumber and the mill were. At times the vessel seemed no more than a few trash cans tied together. Being tossed in the storms of a sea, he held on, determined to make it to the mill to relieve his debt.

 The next part of my dream seems silly in comparison, yet parts of it were so vivid. A friend from wilderness, who was (in my dream) now studying to be a Beautician, was cutting my bangs for my hair that I am growing out. She did a horrendous job, stopped in the middle of it and took off to meet up with somebody else. I couldn’t go out in public like that and didn’t know what to do. Luckily, there was another friend there that saw what she did then took me to a different room and fixed my hair. Sigh!

 Then there were huge cranes dumping tons of gummy candies in our backyard. Little kids from all around started showing up, running around and sliding down the 30 ft mounds of candy while stuffing their faces. At first I wasn’t sure if this was a good idea, but realized we would never be able to eat it all by ourselves. So I started picking out one of each of the shapes to set aside (cuz I am weird like that).

The last part of my dream is what hit hardest with me.

There was this lady, she was part black, shorter, heavier set, large busted with one glass eye and had a kid. A person to my right was bargaining with her for something. We seemed to believe that she had the powers to protect someone very precious to me (either a child or another loved one). I am not sure what exactly we wanted from her, but I knew that I had something that she wouldn’t be able to refuse, so I spoke up.

 I held my hands out in front of me about 8-10 inches apart, as if holding a ball. As I concentrated I could feel a power surging through me into my hands. Between my hands appeared an image of my heart. It was bright red and full of power. I showed the woman that I could transform my heart into a heartstone, an object of great power that resembled a ruby. I knew that others could do the same but would not survive and the stone was significantly smaller. I had a powerful gift. I knew it and I was willing to pay whatever it took for what this woman supposedly could offer.

When she saw it she got flustered and excited and was determined that she was the one to do it. She seemed to think that showing me that she could pop out her own eye or even drown herself in her own skull was evidence enough that she could do it. I was let down to a large degree by what I saw, but knew that she would suffice, but also that I did not have to pay everything that I had. I bargained her down to a small portion of my heartstone, one that perhaps would have been as large as any other person’s but was only about a fifth of mine.

As the dream ended, I had my hands again in front of me, projecting my heart, as I was concentrating on transforming that portion of my heart into a stone like a pulsing ruby.

Te Toca

I open my eyes only to become aware of another pair staring back at me. The eyes are deep and grey and match the brows that frame the eyes, the mustache that frames the thin mouth and the hair that frames the somber face. A familiar face, yet one I would swear I had never seen before. The familiarity brings me comfort along with confusion. I ask myself “Why is He here?” without ever asking who He is or where I am. I am alert and standing up but don’t know how I got here. The background beyond the man is vague yet unimportant and familiar all at once.
The man places something in my hand and says it is given to me to choose. This is how it is supposed to be and I will know upon whom I am to bestow it. I look down into my hand and comprehension sinks in. The short wooden rod in my hand was simple, but as I look upon it my mind is filled with its significance. How could they place this on me!? I don’t have the wisdom or the right. I don’t know if I have the heart.
I look up and the man is gone. I cannot tell him that I cannot do it. The rod is for me. I must guide it and have it touch someone chosen by powers with depths I do not understand. Some would call it a gift, some fate and others call it doom. What will it be for this someone? How will they view their own death? Why me? Death is such a serious thing. Who am I to choose who lives and who dies?
I begin my walk as my surroundings come into focus. I pass people on the streets. I walk along, looking at those I pass, seeing their lives more clearly than before and understanding the desires of their hearts.
Friends shout greetings as I approach and we share warm smiles and a camaraderie that extends beyond our awkward words. My heart skips a beat as I pray that I won’t be told that it is one of them upon whom the rod must fall. They have so much to live for. They are the kind of people that will go out and live their dreams and not let life pass them by.
I sigh with relief as I embrace the last of them and know that they have yet more lives to touch and many more adventures to enjoy.
A truck approaches me and I see a familiar face within. He pulls over and we share a few joking words. My eyes focus on other things while we talk- I see his family, I see how they need him and how they bring him joy. I apologize for my distant look and wave him on his way, glad to know that his family would keep him.
I see a grandmother playing ball with a young boy in the park. She is still needed. Not her.
The boy is safe as well. He has a few rough years, but he will grow and bring joy to those in his life.
I continue on in my own thoughts. Marvelling at the great potential I see in those I pass. Could I have helped them achieve it? Would I have lived differently if I could have looked at others like this all along?
I pass a park and I see older kids playing on the swings and around the playground that is almost too small for them. One of the young ladies runs up to me and gives me a hug. I smooth her brown hair down as she starts telling me about her day and the games they were playing. The smile across her face has always brought a smile to my face, however, today it takes effort. As I look into her face I see all the wonderful things that she could be. I also see that it is not to be. The rod is supposed to fall upon her.
How could this be!? So young and loving! Enjoying life, bringing smiles. There must be a way. I can’t do this.
The inside struggle is brief. I know I will pay the consequence for it when I see the Man again and have to return the rod. I make up my mind and know that she should live, maybe there is someone better.
I leave her quickly, hoping that I will not be forced to return. I make my way along the streets that I seem to know. I see faces I recognize and now know, more than I ever have before, about their dreams and the possibilities for their futures. They are all a blur to me. I keep walking. Not thinking about where I am going, I end up at a friend’s house. There is a party going on so I hide in the corner and just watch people until I know I can put it off no longer.
I go into an empty back room. As I turn from closing the door, the Man is there. The Man reaches out and I give him the rod. He looks down and shakes his head, telling me that I knew this is what had to happen. I know it and accept it and he disappears.
The sun is setting as I start walking down this grassy field. I had made the choice. I feel my heart beginning to slow. Each beat a little slower, each more precious.
Two women and a man circle around me as I lose strength to stand. I am getting tired. They keep thinking that if only this and if only that had happened, I would live. They are sad and don’t want me to leave them.
I lay there, reassuring them that this is how it is supposed to be. I am at peace. Death is not scary, it is not doom, it is just another step in the adventure. I have lived my life, so I smile. I feel comfort as my heart slows.
I feel the love of those around me and wish I could let them know that things are okay. How can I let them know? My heart finishes its last rhythm and I close my eyes. The sunset creates a beautiful array of colors that I pray brings comfort to those that I love.

What Paradise Holds

There was this competition in an arena where I had to deflect a rocket being launched from entering these holes, or I had to get them in the holes, I don't remember. But I got a tip that it was easier to position the rocket depending on your position to the moon. It was weird. I don’t remember the outcome of the competition, but we had to run from there (we as in my companions and I) because people were trying to kill us.

We ran through a town that reminded me of old market places, but it was present time period. I noticed a man who was in obvious distress and rather frazzled. I saw him popping pills. His family got a lot of crap because of him.
(this parts is funny but sad)
They said his name was Horton- as in Horton hears a Who.
He claimed to be hearing voices, but didn't want his family to catch the crap for it, so he was taking anti-psychotic drugs to make the voices stop. You could tell it wasn't helping and the town knew it.

There is this big gap and I can't piece together what happened here.

Then I am swimming out to an island with someone. I think it is for safety and to hide. We almost drown swimming out there, and knew it was a possibility when we started out. but we make it in one piece.

The beaches are this beautiful white sand! They are so smooth and have the most perfect slope you can imagine. It was amazing- a paradise. I saw this conch shell that I was going to grab, so I started getting on my snorkeling gear. By the time I was ready, my companion had grabbed already grabbed it. I was so jealous. I still wanted to find something of my own, so I began to snorkel around.

(In my dreams I often switch from which perspective I see the dream- I don't always see it through my own eyes)

My companion and I were snorkeling when I start to see these corpses in the shallow areas of the beach. They were rather fresh and you could still identify them by their hair and clothes and even some of the skin remaining on their faces. I realized that my companion was heading into an area where other corpses were. I tried to shout out to her. She was swimming ahead of me, and I realized that she, my companion, was me and I was looking out through the eyes of the person who was my companion.

I was doing everything I could to keep her from swimming forward because I had noticed something she had not. The corpse that she was about to swim over would traumatize her. I watched her as her eyes opened wide and the recognition spread across her face and tried to rush to help her for I had not warned her in time.

The corpse she was swimming over was her own.

Our Own Little Islands

This dream happened a while back. Like other times, where it takes a simple movement or thought to trigger a replay in my head of a dream that I had not remembered perhaps since the morning I woke up from it, this one came back randomly while driving with a friend. It is the connections in the dream that I am fuzzy on, but I will try and paint the picture as best I can.

I lived in a place where each house was its own little island. We were out in the ocean and had to travel between houses by boat. These weren't little tropical houses, but normal, in-land houses on a piece of land that stuck out of the ocean but had no beach, it just cut off.

I went to visit my friend in his house. It was the length of a small house and had no inner walls. The outside walls were of old barn wood and there were planks missing in the walls and more missing from the roof. I tried to share his enthusiasm as he showed me around. I suggested fixing up the place and making it more sturdy, but he was content with how it was and how it fit in with his life.

After a little while I felt a storm coming, like a drop in barometric pressure that could slap you across the face. I stepped outside and could see the horizon darkening. A big storm was coming and where we lived that meant a hurricane.

I rushed inside to grab my friend and run to a more secure location, but he wouldn't come. He tried to brush of my insistence with confidence in his house and his desire to wait the storm out there. All my pleading with my dear friend got me nowhere and the winds only got worse. It got to the point where I knew if I risked the storm any further, I would die, too.

I sped home. My home was small but made of bricks. I grabbed a few things and then headed outside. It was hard to get back on the wave-runner I was using because the waves were tossing it around, but I eventually was able to mount it and head toward the mainland.

The storm overtook me before I could make it to the shelter of the mainland. I came across a fast-food place and ran inside, seeking what shelter I could find. The walls were mostly windows, as most fast-food places are, but it was better than being caught out on open water.

As I entered, I tried to shout at people to take cover, but for some reason they just wanted to watch the clouds darken outside and the wind rip the leaves off trees. Did they think the glass was going to save them from the storm?

In attempt to save myself and the child that I was protecting, we hid behind one of the half-walls they have in the seating area. (I do not remember if she had been with me the whole time, if I picked her up at the house, or if she found me in the restaurant, but at this time I distinctly remember her being there and me doing everything I could to protect this precious child.) Something finally broke the glass and the screaming began. glass was flying everywhere, but we were sheltered from the worst of it. I found a door that lead to a storage closet and hid in there til the worst had passed.

The next thing I remember is racing inland to find my family. I knew that chaos would soon break loose on the main-land because of the storm. I ran with the child to find my mother at a super-mall.

The mall had many stories of shops and a complex system of ramps and pathways between the individual shops. I was surprised that I could find my mother at all in the maze of merchandise.

I found her with my elder sister and quickly explained the situation. We rushed to find my youngest brother. We were fortunate to find him quickly, but had more difficulty finding my middle brother.

We finally found him. He had transformed himself into a mannequin! I think he was trying to practice his stealth and observe others unnoticed. I was infuriated!

The mall was already filled with chaos. People were running from one direction to another, things were burning and mobs were forming.

I yelled at him and told him to change himself back immediately. As soon as he realized what was happening, you could see it in his eyes. We stepped back so he could change back.

In that moment, things happened so quickly I could not intervene. A small mob came up, picked up the mannequin that was my brother and threw him over one of the walkway ledges!!!

"GABRIEL!!!!!" I screamed.

I leaned over the rail in time to see him shatter into pieces. My heart was breaking. He was so close and I couldn't save him. If I had only made it there just a moment sooner he would still be alive. My brother would still be with us, not lying in pieces beneath us being trampled by those running mindlessly in the chaos, if I had only done better.

We had to move on.

With tears held back, I urged the rest of my family onward. I had to be strong and not fail the others.

In exiting the building, we dodged other things being thrown from higher levels. At one point we were nearly smashed by a large Christmas tree. We made it out only to see that chaos had enveloped everything, everywhere.

My sister, my mother and I talked as my brother held the child I carried with me. We pulled our money together and knew what we had to do.

There was an island a distance from the shore where we knew that there would be safety to be found. I don't know what was different about this island, but there was hope, and that was more than we had here.

We all walked to the end of this pier, pushing our way past others who also knew that there was hope on this island. Because of the demand for watercraft, with all the money we had, all we could purchase was a small waverunner and enough gas for one trip out there.

I stood there, holding the hands of my mother and sister. We held our heads high as we shouted words of encouragement to my brother. He held the baby and looked back over his shoulder with tears in his eyes. One last look. Then he started up the small waverunner that was all we could afford and headed toward the island.

We were able to give hope to him and the child and that was as much as we could do. Death eventually awaited us on the mainland, but that was not nearly as painful as the regret of wishing we could be there for my little brother and the child in the life we hoped they'd find.

Hell in a Street Sign

So, just so you get an example of some of my dreams that don't make sense, I thought I'd tell you about one from the other night.

We had Hell contained in an old, metal street sign that had been shot a few times with a shotgun. I don't know how or why, but we had somehow managed to contain Hell into this sign, and the only way to keep it contained in there was to hit it with these other metal-like things. It made an aggravating noise even for human ears, but it was keeping Hell in.

We were in a house and people were running all around, trying to keep the minions of Hell from getting inside and releasing it from the sign. I wasn't involved with the fighting, I had to make sure that Hell didn't get out. At one point during the fighting, we were not doing so well, so my friend and I, in charge of the sign and keeping Hell in, took it and hid in this food pantry.

The next thing I know, I am fixing a dryer. There was a hole in the thing that tumbles the clothes and clothes kept getting wedged in between the tumbler and the base. So, I had to reach in and pull out a a brightly striped sock so that it would tumble again. I knew it was almost pointless because more clothes were just going to get jammed in there if we didn't plug the hole.

It's random. I know. This is how they usually are, so I don't post them all. I just thought I'd give you a glimpse on what it's like normally.

Just Because It's Good, Does It Mean That It's Right?

Piecing together my dream last night was kind of difficult because there are a few snippets that I don’t know where they really began or ended and where they fit in. However, even leaving some of those out, it was still pretty interesting.

My dream began as I was part of a family party out on this great expanse of green grass. It was obvious that it was set up for a wedding but that seemed to not have happened. I left the party and walked toward a house that was atop of the hill of grass.

Once inside, I went down a square stairwell that lead to the cellar. There, I encountered two young Irish teenage boys. We started talking and they flirted with me for a while and it was nice. Then their demeanor changed and they were trying to get me to do something. I didn’t understand exactly what it was that they wanted, but I knew that it scared me.

I ran passed them and out the door. The door had changed and now lead me out into an old village square where the roads were dirt and people were driving wagons. I was in a long skirt and had to pick it up to run. I ran around the central park and stopped short as a wagon with two men in it stopped in my path and came after me.

I darted into a store that was selling produce. I ran past barrels and crates displaying fruits and vegetables. When I had gotten to the end of them, the fruit was being displayed under lights and with sprinkler systems for watering them. The floor was also tiled and there were checkout stands between me and the automatic front doors.

I ran outside and jumped in a car with some friends and started driving away. We were calm, feeling as if the danger had passed. When we stopped for some pedestrians in the street, I saw two young men about my age that I recognized as friends walking up behind our car. They were both what I knew could be considered trustworthy as well as charming. I realized that they would be the perfect set up if someone wanted to capture me and convince me to do that which I was running from because I felt it wasn’t right. I told the driver to speed up and swerve around the passengers. As he did, the two walking behind us got angry and started running toward us.

A chase ensued. It was classic in the weaving in and out of traffic, around building and swerving to try to lose our pursuers. Then the dream faded.

I reentered my dream at a point where we were still being chased. However, we were now in hovercraft-type vehicles. Our craft dodged in and out of giant, fallen statues and toppled sky-scrapers. Again, the dream faded.

When I again reentered my dream, I had been caught. I was being taken before the man that was leading this movement, this idea that I was running from and fighting against. We were on his spaceship and there was a great view of the stars behind him. He was wearing a cape that almost made me laugh out loud. He interrogated me and tried to get me to crack, but I held strong. I looked down on him as he drew closer to yell into my face. My eyes and heart held firm and he got no information out of me.

He sent me back to my cell with one of his lead men. Apparently I was not to be trusted. When I was placed back in my cell, the man of considerable rank, who escorted me, entered as well. He quickly showed me some information on a screen in the wall. I knew that this was information vital for my escape and to help others.

I looked again at the man who was helping me. I realized that he had helped me before. In each of the different time periods that I had been in, I had been caught. And each time, this man had passed me information and helped me escape.

To cover our exchange of information, we had to make it look like he was taking advantage of me when the guard looked in. After there was a witness, he slipped out of the room and I was able to escape.

There was more time that I spent running through tunnels and avoiding those under this man’s influence. It was so bad that the entire government was turned. I was able to find other groups of people like me and pass on the information that I had received.

At one point when I turned a corner I ran head on into a group of “police” troops. They were covered from head to toe in a suit of solid colors. Built into the suit was armor and weaponry. Each different shade was used to denote rank and, in some ways, personal identity.

In a split second I was pelting out the nearest exit into the street. All the speed that my legs could produce and all the experience and agility built into my lean, trial hardened body were not enough to save me from the ambush that awaited me.

Troops circled the cemented area right outside the opening that I had exited. I froze. For a moment I tried to figure out how I could take some of them with me and end up dying instead of being turned. I knew that brainwashing was what awaited me if I were caught alive again.

I never had a chance to die. I was hit with a blast from one of them that knocked me out. The only impression was of me, lying on the ground looking up. It was as if someone had drawn a mark on me. There was a ring shining on my head with a straight line down the centerline to my navel. Where the line crossed the shoulders was a perpendicular line that had two shorter lines extending downward about where the line reached the deltoids. There was a second line perpendicular to the centerline that was shorter than the first and about heart level. This whole mark was drawn in bright red light. I knew once I felt it on me that there was no hope of saving the real me. Then there was nothingness.

I woke up.

I was upright, alert, dressed in a bright red uniform and had a weapon in my hand. I was facing two similarly dressed individuals. One was in dark purple and the other in dark green. I recognized them as my friends that chased me at first. I felt the excitement that my friends felt that I had finally joined. I felt a strong feeling that what I was a part of now was right. It was for the good of everybody, if only they’d see, if only they’d join. The power and the good that this movement could do was amazing!

I now lead a troop of soldiers through the underground tunnels that I knew so intimately. It felt so right to be leading them so that others could be shone the light and any resistance could be distinguished. Turning right and left, with every step I knew I was doing that which was right, that which would help the cause.

It wasn’t until I was holding a gun and cornering a family in one of the tunnels and looking into the frightened faces of the children and the defiant look on the parents’ faces- faces that I knew personally- that I faltered in my new found direction.

Was this path right? Was it good for me to force people to take it? Just because it could do good, did it mean it was morally right?