Many readers will recognize my title as the gypsyish/ witchy line written and sung by Stevie Nicks in the Fleetwood Mac hit, “Dreams”. I’ve always felt strongly about this song. It almost feels like it came right out of my own head. Stevie wrote this song in 1977. 1977 was a big year in the U.S. Just a few highlights from that year: Panama was granted control of the Panama Canal. Usage of the Alaskan Oil Pipeline began. Jimmy Carter was elected President. The World Trade Center was completed. The NASA Space Shuttle had it’s first test flight. Star Wars came out in theaters. I was born and Elvis died.
As I said, I was born in 1977 amidst the dreamy, somewhat drug induced, genius of Stevie Nicks and Fleetwood Mac. It seems almost as if I was born into a web of dreams. I was a dreamy child. I often zoned out into my fantasy world. My Mom said I had a vivid imagination. But, I always thought it was more. What child has recurring nightmares of their best friend being murdered and chopped up? What child experiences lucid dreams; thinking that they have awoken from a dream only to find themselves waking up from the dream again and again until they are not sure if they are actually awake. I often asked my Mother if I was awake. I honestly didn’t know.
I was very intuitive. People thought I was a little strange; too quiet they would say. Why did I , “not smile more?”, they would say. I thought they were simply unobservant to what was happening around them. I could almost feel the goings on of creation and the spirit world around us. I told my mom about being attacked in the night by, “Light People”. But, then, I also told her I’d met the “Fruit of the Loom” guys. I was never taken seriously. Just a little girl with a big imagination. I learned to keep quiet about my creepy dreams. I stopped telling people my intuitions. I never did learn to walk around smiling. Something might escape my mouth!
Later in life, I learned a lot about night dreams and daydreams. It is a long held belief in the Psychology community that dreams are usually just a means for our minds to work out the things that happen during the day so that we can sort things out and move on with our sanity intact. I believe that is true a lot of times. But, what about the other times? The times when you can’t wake up because you’re already awake? But, are you really? What about the dreams where demons chase you and you stutter out a prayer of protection in your sleep? Where you’re so filled with terror that even after your spouse wakes you to stop your screaming you sit up wide eyed and wild. You want the lights on and you don’t go back to sleep for hours. What about the quiet moments when you are walking along or just relaxing on the couch and you begin to see or hear yourself in a battle against evil? Too much? It is for most people. “Those are hallucinations”, they say. Hmmm…are they really? Or are YOU simply in denial? But, there again, that is why I’ve learned to keep my “visions to myself”.
Over the years I think I’ve kind of learned to discern between spiritual dreams and what my friend calls, “pizza dreams”. It helps to say a prayer and ask the Holy Spirit to help you understand anything that you need to know and dump the rest. It helps to write about the dreams or sometimes you can’t remember and you just have these residual feelings of horror or grief or confusion. Those times seem to inspire poetry in me. I could spend half a day writing about my “night life”. I’ve done it before. I’ve been late to work among other things.
I often think that there should be some kind of dream support group. But, then, that might be pretty weird. I’d probably get Baker Acted. God only knows what weirdos would show up to those. Disturbed people, attention seeking people, confused people and no doubt, predators. So, I guess that’s why I’ve never seen an advertisement for one.
Best to stick to writing about my dreams. Weaving them into stories that couldn’t possibly be real…or could they? Creating blogs and books that entertain most people. There will be that small percentage that identify. They will find some glint of truth in my crystaline web. They will understand where I am coming from. They will be the ones walking around with their mouths firmly clamped shut. Not smiling even if they are just such a “lovely girl” or “handsome boy”. They have learned to keep their mouths closed and not appear approachable. Lest they fall into a conversation which will invariably lead to dream talk.
So, I will weave my dreams into an acceptable presentation. I will sell my woven dreams, and other dreamers will see the truth and realize that they are not alone.