This is one of the longest dreams I have had, and it is the longest that I have remembered fully upon waking. It was one of the more obviously meaningful dreams that I can remember, and it went on for what seemed like days. I can not begin to describe the range of emotion I felt while experiencing this dream or when I replayed it in my mind when I woke up. I went into as much detail as I could remember when I typed this, because I didn't want to forget it. So this is going to be long.
This one was intense, people. Brace yourselves.
It begins with me sitting in a back bedroom at my mom's house. I was looking through some old things of mine that she found (you know how it is when you pack things in a box, shove them in the top of a linen closet and forget about them). There was a television in the room, and I had been glancing up occasionally. One of my favorite channels growing up, Nickelodeon, was on at the time and they were showing just about every old show I used to watch as a kid. All my favorites. I hear my mother calling me from the kitchen. Dinner is ready. Just as I'm standing up to leave the room, the TV screen goes black and pauses there for a second-- the way it usually does just before a new show is about to start. I hang back to see what the show would be (just out of curiosity, even though I wouldn't stay to watch it) and I was amazed to hear the familiar opening to the show "Are You Afraid of the Dark?" begin to play. It was one of my most favorite shows (the entire show was based on a group of kids that sneak out after dark to tell scary stories). Had I watched this show today I think I would probably laugh at the things that frightened me back then, but since I haven't seen an episode of this show in over 7 years it all still seems pretty damn terrifying.
I was completely mesmerized. I heard myself squeal in delight, and I felt my body lean forward in anticipation... although my mind couldn't focus on anything but the screen. Dinner was all but forgotten-- I had to watch! I was being absorbed into the show, the image growing larger and larger in my view until it was all I could see. Soon I was IN the show. I was one of the kids, silently walking out behind a tree into a clearing where two young girls were laughing in front of a small campfire. They grew quiet as I approached, watching me with friendly yet curious eyes. One of the girls sat up a bit straighter and poised herself as if ready to begin. I sat down and looked up at her... and was shocked to see that she was ME! Both of the girls were different parts of who I was as a child. One of them was the straightforward, take-charge, independent-yet-social leader. The other was the shy, timid, easily-frightened follower. I looked down and saw that I was the same age in all three aspects of 'me'... roughly 7 to 8 years old. Somehow at that moment I knew that I was a third aspect of myself. I was seeing through the eyes of the inventive, creative, logical problem-solving me. The imaginative one.
The "leader" version of me began speaking. Apparently, the way this works is that whoever was in charge that night would lead the group (mentally) through their "story" as if they were living it. We would all experience whatever the main character experiences, whether good or bad. The stories don't have to be frightening, but what kid would be invited back to the campfire if your story was boring? She was laying out the grounds for her story, preparing to take us on a journey so horrifying that we were getting "warnings" before she even started. She said we would have to go through this one together, or we would never make it out alive. The "follower" version of me let out a sort of squeak, then moved closer to me, and we took each other's hands. I had the leader on my left, and the follower on my right. The leader told us to keep our eyes shut for this; just follow her and in our minds we'd see it all. But if you opened your eyes it would be too frightening and none of us would make it. As she began her story, we all stood up, hands clasped together tightly, and embraced it.
We were walking toward a large house. It was a nice day, a bit windy with a slight chill but otherwise comfortable. The house seemed to loom overhead; it was dark and foreboding... just where a group of kids would want to go, right? Looking at the path in front of us, a small creek was blocking our way. One of the versions of myself decided we could cross, just be quick about it and don't let go of each other! Keep your eyes closed, Crystal! DONT open your eyes, and whatever you do DONT think about anything but reaching the other side! I squeezed my eyes shut tight till it hurt, and just kept repeating to myself, "Just cross the creek, get to the other side. That's all. Just cross the creek..." We got through it fine, I didn't even feel the water hit me. No temperature difference, nothing. And should I have felt anything? It was just a story, wasn't it? We continued on our way. Soon we came to a small decline in our path, that went down about 4 feet then rose back up slowly on the other side, just before reaching the yard to the house. At the bottom of the decline another small path veered off to the left, where the hills surrounding it became cliffsides, and the path disappeared around the corner. I leaned forward slightly to glance down the path, wondering what was off that direction, when suddenly the other versions of myself pulled me back and started whispering fervently "NO Crystal! Don't think about it! Clear your mind... don't wonder what's down there! Don't wonder about anything! Clear your mind. You mustn't be imagining ANYTHING, Crystal. You might not mean to, but you're going to get us hurt. Just follow along, don't think!" When we started moving forward again I squeezed my eyes shut even tighter than when we had crossed the creek, and I held onto the hands of the other versions of myself so tightly I could feel pain shooting up my arms. We had just reached the bottom of the decline when I felt my head twist slightly to the left, towards the path, and for just a moment I did wonder what was around that corner...
Something must have happened, but it was a blur; a rushing swirl of colors and shapes and sounds. I'm not forgetting anything at this point, this is how the dream showed it to me. When the world finally slowed down once again, the three of us-- all three versions of me-- were sprawled out in a golden field beside a semi-busy highway, just on the other side of the guard railing. We were all a bit dazed, and started sitting up and brushing ourselves off, standing up and looking at our surroundings, trying to figure out just where we were. We were also older, maybe around 18-20 years old. The other versions of me were mad at me... it was all my fault that things had gone wrong.
You see, apparently (as they were telling me I began putting the pieces together) my imagination was too great. It was a gift; but oh, what a curse! I had the ability to make anything I imagined come to life. Even when a separate part of me was in charge, I was able to change HER story to reflect my own curiosities. That path wasn't there originally, she told me. I created it, however unknowingly. We hadn't been holding hands so we could feel safer together; they were holding MY hands so they could keep me under control. The story wasn't scary initially; it was pnly scary to them... because they had to bring ME! The realizations were hitting me so hard I fell back to the ground. I was the wildcard. I was the one they didn't want around. They loved me because they had no choice-- I was one of them, after all. And I had my good points. I was the one that got them out of trouble in a jiffy! But then again, it was beginning to look as if I was the one that always got them back into trouble, too. They liked me for what I could do for them, and that seemed like the extent of any good feelings aimed in my direction. Right then, I had a flashback to their "friendly" looks as I had approached the campfire, and I saw how fake those smiles were. My mind showed me a hushed conversation between the two of them before I had arrived, discussing exactly what the story would be and how to get there, because the two of them concentrating on it together was their only chance of possibly being stronger than me and making it through. They were afraid of me. Which is why they hated me so much, I think.
I stood back up and we began walking alongside the highway, toward a destination that the other 'me's hadn't filled me in on just yet. If they even knew. As we walked they were casually throwing out comments towards me that were meant to hurt me. Why they would do that knowing the "power" I possessed, I don't know. It's illogical, and yet my mind wasn't "creating" anything at the moment, so I guess they already knew it was safe to belittle me. No, at this point my mind wasn't in control. My emotions were taking over. I was hurt and feeling cornered, even in such a huge field. The sound of the cars when they rushed by was hitting me like a sonic blast with each passing, and I was beginning to get dizzy. I could feel the slow, steady tug of a headache coming on. The looks the other versions of me were shooting in my direction were hateful and disappointed. With each of their comments, I shot back with a defense, but I knew so little about what had happened that my excuses were weak and almost laughable. Well, laughable if I hadn't been about to cry. I was hurting myself, couldn't I see that? But the versions of me were so seperate in who they were that it never occured to either of them that these feelings would rebound upon them.
I was getting more and more dizzy by the second. I felt lost and wasn't sure if I was even going the right direction anymore. I had to hold onto the guard rail to keep myself upright, and the world started spinning. When I took my next step, I felt something move underneath my foot and I recoiled, knocking myself to the ground once more. I could have sworn I had nearly stepped on a snake. A very long, thick, golden brown snake. And dangerous. Highly venomous. The slightest scratch on one of it's fangs is all it would take for excruciating pain and inevitable death. I stood up once more, the other 'me's letting out exasperated sighs and shaking their heads. I watched them share a glance, a slight nod of understanding, and we continued on our way. I, of course, was very cautious now. After all, I wasn't sure if I had actually seen the snake. Every gust of wind played tricks on my eyes; I could see that snake out of the corner of my eye and when I looked-- he was gone. Every car that passed by I heard a hiss in my ear, and when I turned my head-- nothing was there. I thought I was going crazy, when I felt something thick and strong rub against my leg. I jumped and shouted, and this time both other versions of myself looked with concern (though not concern for me). They seemed uneasy, and the glance they shared this time was one of worry and fear.
They were watching me. We started walking faster now. I was genuinely scared for my life, and the other 'me's could see that. They knew something bad was about to happen; and it did. The snake suddenly appeared in front of me, and I halted so abruptly that I twisted and fell again. The other versions of me started shouting, telling me to get up, screaming at me to run. The snake was after me, and always just two steps behind. I was zigzagging through the gaps in the guard rail trying to buy time and lengthen the distance between my heels and it's deadly fangs. There was an abandoned vehicle just ahead, pulled off the side of the road. If we could only reach it...
The tail of the snake whipped in front of me. I tripped, falling against the guardrail and knocking my head against it before collapsing in the grass. I could hear the snake hissing, and I barely managed to roll to the side just as the snake lunged forward in a strike, digging it's fangs deep into the earth where my chest had been moments before. I was now on my back, scrambling away from the snake, unable to tear my eyes from the glinting of venom clinging to one of the fangs, slowly coalescing into a single drop. In what seemed like slow motion that single drop fell to the ground, exploding upon impact. It was almost as if every particle of dust and dirt that it touched burst into white flames and was erased from existence. The snake coiled back once more, it's eyes fixed on me with lethal accuracy, and it launched itself forward. Fear now had a name, and it was Death. I was about to experience it firsthand. There was nowhere to run and no place to hide. I braced myself--
And suddenly the snake was gone. It had been torn right out of the air, from within inches of my face, and thrown in front of a huge truck that was speeding by. For a split second my brain began making the connections and releasing the chemicals to feel joy and relief and happiness at being alive. But before the emotions even had time to form, a new horror spread out before my eyes. The truck that hit the snake had swerved into the oncoming lane, and my ears filled with the sound of screeching brakes and honking horns, and metal colliding with metal at high speeds with incredible force. I grasped the guardrail for support, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from vehicle after vehicle that couldn't stop in time, slamming together, trying to avoid the crash and only making it worse. I couldn't see every driver or passenger, but I could see enough. Men. Women. Children. Dying. Dead. I don't know how long I stood there, or when I had even stood up, but soon firefighters were putting out small fires between a few vehicles, and a police officer was wrapping a blanket around me, then putting his arms around my shoulders and telling me it would all be alright. I was safe now.
My view shifted, and I was now looking down at myself. I could see tears streaming down my face, the concerned officer attempting to bring me out of the state of shock that I appeared to be in, and the huge mess of twisted metal and body bags that lie before me. It went on for miles in either direction, taking lives and breaking hearts. How could the officer seem so relieved that I had lived, when my very existence had caused such trauma? How could he look at me with such loving, caring eyes when it was my fault that all these people were dead? It didn't seem worth it to me. I could have died-- no, I SHOULD have died-- that day. No one else should have died; if it would have just been me, they all would have lived. I tried to think back to figure out just what it was that had pulled that snake away from me, but I came up with nothing. I honestly didn't know, and I had a feeling I would never know. But it didn't matter. It was still my fault.
The other versions of myself were no longer present. At least, not individually. They had become a part of me again, as they should have. And I became a part of them. I was one entity, and I knew that this is what it had taken to bring myself back together. It was a delicate balance, and I would have to learn to control it; I would need to be a strong leader, cautious, but creative. Social, but independent. Imaginative, but realistic. If only I could stop hating myself.
And then the dream shifts.
Fast forward to a few years from today, in the future. I'm about 28 now, and my kids are around 6. My husband and I are having a small get-together with the neighbors. It seems to be a normal thing, maybe a weekly thing. We are hosting this time, and we are gathered together in what I can only assume is my dining room and kitchen, although it looks nothing like what I actually have. The kids are in their bedroom playing with their friends, and it's just us adults, chatting while waiting on food. The topic at hand is about finding common ground with your children and introducing activities that you could do together that are mentally stimulating while still being fun for all ages.
I'm only half-listening to one of the women as she is explaining her opinion (attempting to force us into agreeing that the best choice is reading books aloud in a circle, namely the Bible, and burning the television set). My husband is on the couch, engaged in a debate with one of the other husbands over the worth of some football quarterback. I'm making my way around the kitchen, wiping down the counter tops. One of the men took over with his views on the subject. (I'm actually not sure if he was married or had kids at all; he seemed more of a casual businessman, like a public relations rep or a promoter of some kind. He looked just like Jason Bateman.) His views were much more like my own: what works for some may not work for others, and not everyone is in an "overly-religious Jesus-statues-everywhere technology-is-the-work-of-the-devil" kind of family, so you find what works for your family-- maybe take turns trying out things that other family members like to do, and you make it more about having fun and working together than about learning-- although if you can manage some learning in there, good for you.
I was just finishing up the counter when I see an old breakfast biscuit stuck under an overhanging portion of the counter in the corner of the room. It was in a spot where there were two counter tops next to each other, one just slightly above the other, enough to leave a small gap about two inches tall and three inches wide. As I get closer I see that it's stale and has bits of pale green, dusty mold covering it. I say a few words of agreement towards the businessmen so he knows I'm listening, then cautiously pull the biscuit out of the space and throw it away, only to look back and see that it had been hollowed out and the spot on the counter where it had been is now a swarm of maggots crawling through mold and stale biscuit crumbs. I am completely disgusted by this, yet no one else seems to even notice. I kill the maggots and scrub the spot clean, spray it with disinfectant, and stare at it for a moment, as if expecting more to appear, but they are gone now.
The conversation is still going, this time another mother mentioning how "it seems like it must be pretty hard to pay attention to what your children like at all if you're glued to a screen playing some game all day." By this time the husbands have joined us in the kitchen for dinner, and my husband looks at me with an expression that asks if I want to be the one to respond to the woman's comment. My husband reaches into the refrigerator and begins pulling things out, while I turn to the woman and offer my views on her opinion. I basically explain to her how being a gamer yourself IS common ground between you and your child, because you can use gaming situations to begin conversations about more important issues. You can sit down together and play a game, you can experience family bonding through multiplayer... not that you need to play games all the time, but it's definitely an option.
As I'm talking my husband starts handing out Lunchables to everyone. As odd at I think this is at first, our guests all seem excited, and we settle around the dining room table eating them as if it is a full, home-cooked meal. Conversation turns to lighter topics, and we spend the evening talking and laughing in the company of our neighbors and friends.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Parts of this do seem self-explanatory, in terms of the separate versions of myself, though I think analysis of a dream this intense will have to be done in a separate post at a later date. Feel free to comment and leave me your feedback as to what you think. I'm interested in hearing some responses.
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