Had a very vivid dream last night. It's stuck with me all day. I can't get it out of my head. Maybe sharing it will let me be free of it.
In my dream, I was in a toy store, a large one like the old Toys R Us. And I found my way to the aisle that had the Star Wars toys. I've actually dreamed of that a number of times. What I do most when I dream of that is look through the massive wall of Star Wars action figures, seeing if there are any that I don't have. And that's what I did this time, too.
But this time, as I was looking through the pegs holding the figures, I spotted something I'd never seen before. It was a Star Wars figure totally new to me. I pulled the figures of the peg that were between me and this new figure.
When I finally had it in my hand, it was a carded action figure of someone who I had loved dearly, and have been unable to stop loving even now.
It looked exactly like her, precisely imitated in plastic and paint. She looked as she did on Christmas Day many years ago, when I got to her parents' house after I drove fast and got there from Reidsville in five hours, not the usual seven.
It was a Star Wars figure of one of the very few women who God ever brought into my life and I could barely stop looking at it.
It was suddenly the most wonderful, most amazing action figure that I had ever seen and I had to have it. I was gentle with the carded figure, I wanted it in mint condition. It was going to get a place of highest honor in my collection.
I took it to the checkout at the front of the store. I got to the register. And that's when the cashier told me how much it was and I knew that I didn't have that much. I had to give it back. I wasn't able to afford the most precious action figure that I had ever seen.
It went back to the aisle, hanging with the other figures, and I knew it was going to be found by someone who could not only afford her, but was probably better than I could ever be.
I started crying in my dream. And then I woke up. And buried my face in my pillow and had to hold back what could have been real tears if the meds I take for manic depression could allow for actual weeping. I felt sad and a little angry, at myself and at God. I kept thinking of how broken I am. Broken in mind, in spirit, and too many times in faith.
It seems that my dreams are all broken too, in all the ways that they can be.
So much symbolism in that dream that I'm realizing since having it, about 3 a.m. Eastern Standard Time this morning. And none of it less than haunting.
Well, that's what it was. A nice dream about a pleasure from childhood and much of the rest of my life even. That turned into a heartbreaker that has plagued my waking hours all day.
Maybe with it out of my head, it can not have any further power over me. I'd like to salvage something better out of this afternoon and evening.
2 comments:
This person gets a lot of space in the book I've written. I hope it will do her honor.
Sorry to hear that Chris. I think it could be a healing thing to share that, though others couldn't. It's the writer in you.
I am praying that it's working and that you are feeling better.
I have dreams sometimes that I'm in a giant Lego store. That was my drug of choice growing up. I would be building them still but they've got so dang expensive. Go to Walmart and all the Lego sets are locked up behind glass. They've become a luxury item out of reach of many people. But at least the dreams are free.
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