I’m sleeping really well right now, or at least for the last two nights anyway. 🙂 The average is 10 hours, all of which were much needed.
Prior to bed last night, as I was watching my current show of interest, I kept feeling a communication coming through from my right. At first I didn’t identify it as such, thinking I was just having random thoughts and feelings, but ultimately I stopped focusing on my show and shifted my attention to the source.
My heart was struck with a beautiful energy. It was so palpable that in my mind I saw it, like a etheric, golden light, twirling and spinning out from the darkness straight into my heart center. Along with the energy came visuals mixed with incomplete thoughts. I settled into my core and let the transfer take place, knowing that too much focus would interrupt it. Allow. Allow.
The origin of this energetic connection was Earthly; it was someone on the Earth plane I know. Soul family of the Divine kind. I suspect the telepathic connection was unintentional on their part. But it doesn’t matter, I received it.
Unfortunately, my motherly duties interrupted the flow and when I tried to reconnect I was unable.
Dream: Halfway There
This dream was early in the morning hours, so I was partially lucid. I find that these days when my lucidity peaks I prefer to go with the dream rather than take control of it. Not sure why I am doing this except that maybe I have recognized doing so allows me to receive messages that otherwise I would not notice.
I found myself on the side of a road in Montana. It was really dark out and I could barely see my surroundings. I crawled up an embankment and up to the side of the road. My location had been beneath a bridge near a small stream I think. I could feel the tall grass as I crawl-walked and hear the crunching of leaves and twigs with each step I took.
As I crawled I encountered objects: trash. It was scattered here and there and familiar. I picked up a very large, empty container of oatmeal without a lid and took it with me to use as a bucket to pick up the litter. I picked up two empty apple juice boxes and tossed them inside and then stumbled upon the lid to the oatmeal container. I closed the boxes inside and tossed the container into the brush.
As I settled myself on the side of the road I encountered another empty oatmeal container and put more boxes inside. There was a conversation going on in my mind with someone about this but it is lost to me now. What is left is the consideration that this trash represented things I feel “done with”, and as such it is being “trashed”.
I remember thinking of the journey ahead. I told this person in my mind how I did not look forward to the long journey ahead in this darkness. The feeling I had was of despair and extreme exhaustion. My bones felt heavy and my prognosis not good.
Every once in a while a car or truck would pass by. All kept their headlights off. I found this very disturbing. I knew the traffic was so sparse that I would be lucky if I saw one vehicle an hour. But I walked on, being careful to hide in the shadows when a car passed me by. It felt dangerous to be out so late at night in the middle of nowhere all alone.
Every once in a while a car would approach with headlights on only to turn them off when close. One time, a truck passed me by, headlights off, and another car passed them going the other direction. The truck stopped and turned to pursue the other car but saw me because they had turned on a spotlight. Caught and unable to run, I stood there and four men got out of the vehicle and approached me. I was close enough to see a woman in the front seat, strapped in a seat belt. I sensed from her distress and used my medical intuition to scan her body. I said to the men, “She is not well. She needs to go to a hospital.” They laughed and said, “Yeah, she has a broken leg.”
The dream shifts and I am inside the truck with the men. We stop at a church and I open the door and escape, screaming at the people, “I’ve been kidnapped. Help!” only the words didn’t come out right at first. I scramble inside with help from the people there and run down a hallway to check the back door. I knew the men would find me and had hoped to escape out the back door. Unfortunately, I ran into one of the men, machine gun in hand, standing at the back door. I said to him, “You know you don’t want to do this. Give me your gun.” The man considered and his shoulders drooped as he handed over the gun. I asked, “Is there ammo?” He nodded and we both went inside.
The dream shifts forward in time and I am inside the church with a large group of people. My daughter is with me. They offer us new clothes. I am given a white, long-sleeved shirt with their logo on the front. It looks like three flowers connected in a triangle shape. I feel displaced as I put on the shirt, as if I am homeless.
I feel extremely tired at this time and seek out a bed to lay down on. There is no space where I am, so I go into the other room and check the bed there. I note that people have left their things on the nightstand indicating that the bed is taken. So, I turn to the computer, take a seat and begin to type my story – the dream as I recall it up to that point along with my feelings/emotions and secrets I would otherwise tell no one.
As I type, the screen goes blank and I am unable to get the computer to respond. I panic, worrying the people of the church will discover I am not who I say I am. I press the “Esc” key to try and regain control of the screen. It works and I cannot find what I typed anywhere. Instead a video screen pops up and the icon on the top indicates that the person who is logged in, some man, has liked one of my posts. I go into his profile and unlike my post to try and erase any proof that I had been there.
I return to the other room and search for earplugs but none of them fits. I want to sleep but cannot. There are so many people that the space feels crowded. I do not like the feeling. A man I know in real life begins to talk to me, to counsel me, and I find out he has divorced his wife. He makes it clear that he is interested in me but the thought of being with him that way is unappealing to me. His energy feels sick and weak, completely incompatible with my own.
Somehow I end up walking on the dark road again. I am on the other side this time, the left side rather than the right as before. There is a glimmer of light in the distance, as if the sun is about to rise. I feel so tired, my legs like dead weights as I walk. A familiar song comes into my mind as I walk, sung by a male voice. I sing along with him:
Woah, we’re half way there
Woah-oh, livin’ on a prayer,
Take my hand, we’ll make it I swear,
Woah-oh livin’ on a prayer….
The chorus repeats a second time and I sing it louder and with more purpose. When I hit the part, “Take my hand, we’ll make it I swear”, I burst into tears. The feeling I have is similar to how one feels when they have fallen but can’t find the strength to stand and keep going. It feels like death is the only option. Then someone offers them their hand.
I wasn’t crying when I woke up. Instead I felt somewhat awed by the whole dream experience. Maybe it was because it was partially lucid? Or maybe it was the message via song that was the final uplifting component, saying, “We can do this!”? I did indeed feel hopeful and I can’t help but think of the analogy of running a marathon as perfect for how life plays out.
I believe the dark road in Montana is symbolic of where I feel to be at currently in my life. The darkness is the unseen/unknown and also represents how I feel – dark, gloomy, hopeless. Montana is the journey toward spiritual freedom, enlightenment, purpose, whatever you want to call it. Montana = mountains. It is the “ascent”.
The trash I find are things I no longer want or that I feel have served their purpose. The oatmeal is a continuing symbol of mine, it symbolizes comfort and sameness. The juice boxes could be domesticity as they are reminders of my children and my motherly duties. The oatmeal container is huge in the dream and very empty; all used up. I have had my fill.
The vehicles without headlights indicate that I do not feel illuminated by those that I meet right now. If anything they perpetuate the dark, gloominess that I carry with me. The men in the truck who abduct me seem to be a perceived danger, the woman is likely an aspect of myself who is broken and unable to walk; stuck.
The church likely represents some kind of perceived haven of help, but looks are deceiving. The guns indicate potential aggression under the surface but I am able to suppress it. I feel homeless with the group and suffocated. This is representation of a real-life situation I won’t go into detail about. Let’s just say a similar group I am associated with gives me the feelings I encountered in the dream. I want to ignore it, block out the messages I received (earplugs) and avoid what I know the be true (sleep), but am unable to do either. The man represents the feelings I often get with people in the group.
This is further expounded upon by what I write on the computer. I want desperately to communicate – be – who I am, but know the group will not accept this. In the dream what I write is very personal and revealing. I hit “Esc” to try and escape the consequences of them knowing my true identity and am successful at erasing all traces of myself.
The last scene of walking the road on the left side could indicate change of perspective. The light in the distance = hope. The song, of course, is relaying the message that I am not alone.
There is a short dream memory that I have limited recall on now. What I do recall is being in a room with a man. We are sitting comfortably on cushioned lounges. All the colors in my memory are golden hues, as if we are in the 1960’s but I know we are in a place where time doesn’t exit. The scene feels like a bar or speak easy. Rather than tables and chairs there are sofas and side tables.
The man I am with is familiar and I am very comfortable with him. He is singing and I am amazed at how nicely he sings. I comment on how lovely his voice is. What I remember most is feeling pulled in by his voice. It is smooth, deep and quiet, sometimes only a whisper. His brown eyes become a focal point in the dream that also seem to pull me in. The depth of them is familiar. I see myself in his eyes. I am in love with his voice, with his eyes, with him.
There is conversation here but I only recall a summary of it now. The man is telling me about his life, how he use to sing with a band among other things. I feel mostly to be listening to him. It feels like he needs me to listen; like he has much to say but doesn’t say it. I am happy to listen.
I don’t know when this dream snippet occurred – before or after the above dream. In fact, most of the night’s experiences feel jumbled as if they all happened at the same time. Maybe they did? It is of no consequence anyway. What is most important is that I woke up feeling calm and accepting when normally I awaken in resistance.