Date:   7/30/2011 3:26:55 AM ( 13 y ago)
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URL:   https://www.curezone.org/forums/fm.asp?i=1840788

...came every night for many nights, starting when I was seven years old - I am now 57.

The beginning looked like stress, tension, frustration - snow on a television station not coming in quite right. Electricity, static filled the scene as an over-stuffed 40's chair floated in mid-air - the chair is trying to push a needle into a telephone pole. I feel the enormous energy involved. I am in the air with it.

The scene changes - a man and woman waltzing, spinning 'round in the clouds. The pair strongly resemble my parents, who were marvelous dancers when they were not going at it, fighting every day. A beautiful couple dressed in 50's strapless full skirt, and the suit all men wore in those days - spinning in mid-air, and then the screen splits with them dancing above, and below is a shack with broken windows, tattered curtains, litter and bottles on the ground - not familiar - a child sat on the front steps, broken rails and cats wandered. The child looked at first like my little sister, then the face would change in the next dream and was some other family member
(we resemble each other strongly), then finally I recognized the face was my father as a little boy. A tear ran down his left cheek and he had one shoe on and one shoe off. His name was Jon.

I was so frightened by this dream that I did not want to go to sleep at all for fear the dream would come again - and it did with regularity, finally phasing out somewhere in my wild child junior high school days when alcohol and drugs came to fix my pain. My family was destroyed by then - parents divorced when I was 10, very violent father left and kept coming back - parents kept reconciling and having more children despite divorce. It was hell when he was gone, and hell when he was there. Mother was a rager. I kept having the dream until somewhere in 9th grade. My own life eventually reflected theirs, until I sought spiritual help.

Years after the dream went away, my father was dying in a V.A. hospital in 1991 - he was 57. A lifelong athlete, he was extremely strong - "heart of a 25 year-old young man" the doctors said. They thought they were treating a sinus infection, and a tumor that had been there "for at least 30 years, possibly since birth" was discovered and was taking him down. I traveled to visit, had not seen him in ten years. Getting off the elevator I stopped in my tracks, as I looked down the hall he walked, stopping to talk at each doorway - the back of his head stapled back on after futile surgery, with long grey and black hair flying around looking like a scene from One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, he told all the dying old veterans what "a beautiful life it is" - spreading joy and good vibes all over the hospital hallway. I could not move. I looked at his feet - one shoe was on and the other was gone....

It took 4 months for him to die, meanwhile back at home I painted the dream. A 20x26 canvas of the split screen - beautiful pair waltzing in the clouds above the shack, the boy on the steps without a shoe. I understood the dream as soon as I saw his missing shoe - a thing I could hardly consciously know when I was seven - that he indeed had a problem no one could see with the naked eye. I knew in the way children do, and also I have exceptional intuition, extra-sensory stuff I wrestled to accept all my life. His brain problem was why he was explosive, violent, way beyond the GUY IS PISSED OFF violent. I loved him, while I feared him, and forgave him because I KNEW, but did not know what it was that I knew until I got off the elevator in 1991...

I share this after the fact, because now I can tell the story in its entirety, having come to some peace about it. Our dreams are so very significant, maybe just not right away sometimes.

seek2clean
 

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