Lately I haven’t been having memorable dreams. It could be stress, fatigue, or any number of reasons, I’m sure, but last night rocked the boat . . . and not in a good way. I should have been up already, and maybe that explains the feeling of coming back to the dream a few times. This dream was going to be heard. I’ll try not to go into epic detail and probably can’t since I’ve tried all day to forget it. The gist of the dream remains.
A group of us parents. Night time. One scene is like a bar, and there’s a machine that will make you look like someone else while singing karaoke. I become Velma, noticeably slimmer. Singing and dancing, I think maybe I should lose 50 pounds. Another scene has kids jumping along rooftops. They’re leaving a trail of disrupted shingles. It’s almost an animation. Another scene I realize that the kids never made it back home; one of them is mine, the other child one of our friend’s kids. Husband, another friend, and I start searching the woods. There’s some snow and ice. I’m scared. I see a frozen dead deer. Pain and fear grip me at the thought of finding our kids like that. It was too cold for them to survive overnight. The scene jumps to me talking with the other parent. His son had not come home the night before. Fear confirmed, but he wasn’t worried or was in denial, more likely. I feel like I’m procrastinating the search, but I’m trying to collect facts. My oldest told me the last place the were or were seen. We return to the search in the woods. Fear and dread grow.
I finally woke up. Late. An alarm going off in the kids’ room. I still had that horrible feeling. I had to un-furrow my brow, remind myself that it was a dream. But what to do with it?
What is trying to be revealed to me with such potent energy. I am grateful for time tomorrow to reflect.