For the past three nights I have been visited in dreams by angels, nuns and monks.
In every dream they brought care, love and gifts to soothe my soul, sore from longing for a bike I could not find. They glowed in their presence, their faces all kind, they shined my car, filled it with gifts wrapped in ribbons gold and red and went after a man who stole my cell phone. He left his behind and when he returned for it, I yelled at my nephew to stay inside and don’t open any doors, then I yelled from out an upstairs window of the house we were in:
Police, police, the man who stole my phone is here now, go outside and get him!
The man, who looked of Asian descent wore a navy with a white shirt and dark tie, fled in his brand new dark silver car and the license plate was 4CLV38. The angels were well ahead of him and the police. We were safe from whatever dark deed he was up to. It was windy out but warm wind because we had the upstairs windows of the house wide open to the fresh after-rain fragrance wafting through.
Years ago I took a course in dream analysis. Too bad I cannot remember much from it.
As an HSP, I am a lucid dreamer so when I awaken, there is always a rent in my being, a moment where I have to come to grips that I am here and no longer there amid the sounds, colours and touches of others. Three times in my life I have had the same dream as three other people I love. A sister, a niece and my husband. This is the first time I’ve had the same dream three nights in a row. That I can recall, anyway.
It’s starting to unsettle me. Let’s hope I have a whole new dream of something different this night.
(c) JAM 21jan2012