Only In My Dreams: The Messenger (Dream No. 1)


The following dream occurred in June of 1991.  My dreams really began to take on varying degrees. Their dimensions and textures were changing as I continued to journal them. Some ‘felt’ oddly real even though they were so abstract in their unveiling.

I was beginning to identify certain individuals, places, and things that created a familiar pattern and emotional response in certain scenarios.

I was fascinated by the idea of lucid dreaming, which if you’re unfamiliar with the term, means that your conscious self can and will enter the dream if you don’t like how the dream is unfolding and adjust or discontinue the dream entirely.  Usually there is an adjustment that is made and the dream continues down a different path.

The concept of this really kept me following the directions I’d read in the book.

So I will share the dream with you and later its significance.  I call this dream “The Messenger”.

Horse-Wallpaper-horses-4486243-1600-1200

June 1991

I am enclosed in long rectangular glass box that has holes in it at strategic points.  Each hole is approximately 6 inches in diameter.  I am naked and lying on a worn red satin cushion that provides very little comfort or relief.  

My glass coffin is sitting in the middle of a town square that appears straight out of 101 Arabian Nights.  I am sobbing and appear battered.  Men can reach in touch me, pinch me, pull my hair, punch me, fondle me at their leisure. 

They jack off glaring at me with lustful disdain.  

It is insufferably hot.

I am moved to a dusty hillside.  The cushion has been removed.  I am exhausted and feeling decidedly hopeless.  

And then I hear the horse.  It is screaming its displeasure and is racing down the hillside.  I curl into a tight ball.  

The horse pounds its hooves on the thick glass walls assuring me I will be released.  Men have come and tossed a rope around the horse and are stabbing it with spears.  The glass cracks and I am free. 

I scream at the horse to come but he tells me to run.  That he will find me later.  

“No!  I cannot leave you!” I sob.  

“Go!  Now!  We will find each other again!” 

I run blindly down the hillside encrusted in blood with the screams of the horse still ringing in my ears.  I run until I can run no longer.  I collapse under a tree falling into a deep slumber.  

Upon awakening I find I am in a lush meadow.  Clothing and sustenance are both available to me.  I refresh myself then walk up to the highway.  I am now in North Vancouver and hop on a bus that will take me to gondola that will deliver me about half way up the mountain.  

There is line up for the Pretzel Man.  He has long white hair tied in a ponytail with a cigarette hanging from his mouth.  He makes and sells a pretzel bread.  His eyes are a gentle blue.  

“Ya want salt with that?” he asks not looking at me.  

“No, I need your guidance….please.”

He glances sideways at me and nods slowly.  “You haven’t much time.  You’ll find your friend in New Westminster.  Go then.” he offers softly.

I lay a stone at his feet then turn and toss on a pair of skis and down the hillside I go.  From there I hand the skis to someone going up the mountain who smiles and takes them from me then I am on a bus.  

Now I am standing at the top of a hill looking down at a massively big factory that is a stones throw from the river with twelve-foot fences topped with barbed wire.  Inside the fence are several horses and they do not appear very healthy.  This factory is a sinister place that will take their life and turn them into dog food and glue.  

I feel sick just thinking about this as I run down the hill.  I see him and I call.  He comes to me and I am reaching through the fence.

“I’m so glad that you are safe.”  He tells me.  

“I will get you out of here.” I promise.

The foreman comes by and smacks my hands then the horse.  I tell him I want to buy the horse back and he refuses.  He hits the horse again.  I am angry.  The horse moves away and I call after him…”I will get you out of here!”

There is a cafe that sits kitty corner to the slaughter yard.  I go in and order coffee.  About ten people are inside.  I stand now and ask for their attention.

“My friend is in there and none of those horses deserves to die in the manner that is in their foreseeable future.  Will you help me create a diversion?”  

Everyone is excited and very willing to assist.  We develop a plan.  I watch has two women deliver a Molotov cocktail to the back of a pick-up truck.  They depart up the hill then turn to watch.  

The vehicle explodes and the foreman comes running out of his office.  We all run out of the cafe now and I wave my arm.  The horse sees me and moves to the back of the yard instructing the other horses to follow.  Three big burly men move forward in the guise of assisting the foreman.  Two more move to the back of the yard with me.  They are in possession of wire cutters and make fast work of the fence.  

I slip through indicating the animals to move swiftly.  More people have now diverged around the truck which is burning hot with flames jumping higher and higher.  

Finally my friend comes through the fence and the yard is now empty.  “Go!” the men insist.  

I slip onto the horse’s back and we are running away as angry shouts can be heard in the distance.  

And then I am sitting beside a moonlit pond.  The horse is laying beside me sleeping now and I am but a child.

I awaken.

How did this dream make me feel initially?

Confused.  Very confused.  There was no mystery in having a horse appear in my dreams.  The horse has come to me in sleep since I was about ten years of age.  But never like this.

The horse had often squired me away from my isolation particularly when I was very young.  In my late teens the horse seldom appeared and as I headed into my twenties….it became a rare occurrence indeed.

This dream not only brought the horse back to my sleep realm on a regular basis but it was also the first time that I had rescued the horse.

I tucked the dream away and forgot about it for many years but this one kept being triggered by certain events.  Each time it surfaced I garnered a little more insight into the message it conveyed and I am still gaining an understanding of its meaning.

In a nutshell, the horse has always walked with me.  It is a spirit animal that I’ve come to know well.  The horse encourages me to challenge myself, and represents freedom, loyalty and creativity to me.

I grew up and lived the majority of my life in East Vancouver.  When I purchased my current home in New Westminster I experienced a very strong sense of deja vu…as though I needed to come back to this place to finish something.

What I can tell you is that in the last four years since moving to New Westminster a wellspring of personal upheaval and growth have occurred.  And this dream surfaced in a major way.

Its message to me now is that the horse and I are interchangeable.  Always the horse came to me and offering a way out.  This dream marked my beginning to take the actions needed to be free of my past.  In rescuing the horse, I was moving from being a victim and embracing the role of survivor.

When I am out running this friend of mine is with me.  Never letting me give up. Reminding me always of the path we’ve traveled.  Even on those mornings lately when my whole body aches, I push on.

And I shall continue to seek and learn all that I can from my erstwhile friend.

Thanks for stopping by and do feel free to share any insight you have on the topic of dreams.  Cheers!

 

 

 

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2 thoughts on “Only In My Dreams: The Messenger (Dream No. 1)

  1. That dream is very vivid and in-depth. I rarely remember my dreams in such detail (or at all, really), although sometimes I’ll wake with the feeling that is associated with a given dream and be able to work backwards to piece a bit of the dream back together (although I usually forget it again within about 15 minutes of waking).

    Like

    • I have always had really vivid dreams. What I have discovered though, is that when a memory is surfacing they take on an aspect where I call them ‘real dreams’. The imagery in them, while extremely abstract,as nothing appears as it does in the waking world, has a depth and texture different from a regular dream.

      If you ever decide to record your dreams, you will find that retaining them becomes easier as well.

      Like

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