Meet the Author's Author

Meet the Author's Author
Live for Jesus! That's what matters! That you see the light in me and come along! :)

Sunday, July 10, 2011

Weird Dreams

For the past four nights (excluding last night) at the Beals' house, I have had extremely weird dreams.
The first was regarding an old friend and I - we were touring England, and a steam engine and another guy were involved. Not much more I want to recall.
The next two I can't remember, but the fourth was so weird I made a point of trying to remember specific points and write it down.

My Dream 09-07-11

There was this train station I was at...a train from America to the UK. It stopped in front of some big glass panels, white framed, with sliding doors. I was in a sort of wide area that lead to it off a corridor. Mom and Dad were there, with my Uncle Pete and I seem to recall something to do with or someone like Bill Jackson. I have a vague recollection of me having some kind of stuffed animal, probably missing Harry Kyle.
I was off somewhere important, the atmosphere had a kind of urgency around it and I felt very sure of where I was going and that I wouldn't be back for a long time and there was danger involved. The style of clothing gave the impression of WWII style, but that it was winter. Which is confusing. I hugged everyone goodbye. Dad was kind of nonchalant and Mom looked very concerned. I went off onto the train with my suitcase.

Next thing I remember is hearing this woman with shoulder length blonde curly hair in a suit sitting behind a desk, listing off in a crisp voice my "crimes". I was accused of arson in a building, and funnily enough, I could see it burning almost as though it was in a real living photo in front of me, as she said. I was a secret agent of some kind, and she was after my life.

Next scene was her torturing my son called Timothy, who resembled a kind of muppet, by squeezing him behind a door, trying to get him to tell her where I was. I was watching, horrified, but unable to stop it. It was put to an end by a big, elderly man (who also resembled one of the muppets) squeezing through the door and thus forcibly stopping her - and then ordering her to. I got the impression this man was Scrooge.

Following this, I recollect Timothy, me and Scrooge were in this boat, rowing upstream in a river of blood with this woman, who might have been called Helga or Hilde. We had an open area of water we were heading towards, with thick trees, like a tall forest, on either side. I was aware I was under some kind of capture, and that I hated her, and that she intended to kill me. She stopped off to stand in the water (which was clear at this point) to talk to something, and I seized the oars and was rowing frantically upstream as she continued her conversation. Then I looked up with horror to see these raging wolves heading towards me. They looked like some cross between a wolf and a dog, tongues lolling, eyes glistening as they leaped over the water, as over land, towards me. I tried to row backwards and the woman laughed, did some few fantastic swimming strokes which brought her from about a quarter of a mile away to the boat and leaped in, taking over the oars.

Next I am aware we are in some kind of wooden log shed, with the wolves trying to get in from outside. My Uncle Peter was there, and we were putting bricks in clear plastic containers, the kind with the clip on lids. I seem to have reduced in age somewhat, as, although Timothy is there, I feel and am treated as a much younger person, without the responsibility I appeared to have had before. I was putting the bricks in and clipping on the lids, as were other people. The wolves were snarling and snapping outside, and I remember being terrified in case they tried to chew underneath the structure, as it was a dirt floor. We were in there for some distinct period of time, when they paused and I knew they were sniffing around the edge of the shed. Suddenly, a wolf who must've been the chief began to call out dog names in a distinctly human voice. One was Bandit. The wolves, one by one, vanished. I remember peering outside the shed through a letterbox crack and seeing only one left - and I was the only one that noticed this. My Uncle Pete eventually went outside and came back in, slamming the door behind him, leaning against it with both hands and saying, They're all gone! At this point we all looked at each other, wondering why, when suddenly it struck us all that "of course! It was Christmas Day and Scrooge (who was there) had changed his heart at this time on Christmas Day."

We were at some kind of party, some kind of celebration. It felt like a homecoming one for me. I was standing hugging my sister, who I remember was 50 something years of age. My brother sat at a tiny kid's table to my right, looking over my nephew George's left shoulder, who was sitting at the left hand of my nephew Jamie. Both my nephews were a little older in years but not much changed physically, but my brother Simon had grey hair. We were in a big room from the feel of it, and I was watching someone undo a present. It may have been my young niece, Ayanna. Scrooge was standing there, stooped over, watching it, and as the wrapping fell away the last wolf came out, and it was to kill Scrooge. I don't remember what happened, but suddenly it changed into a little girl, with blonde hair and big blue eyes, who looked like a kiddie's cartoon creature.

That's the fourth weirdest dream I've had in four days since I've been at the Beals'. I really can't figure this out!