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Re-Occuring Dream Enjoying God Anew Series |
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Re-Occurring Dream 7/29/2005 As a young child, I had the same dream, over and over again. It was not a bad dream; being able to fly was way cool. Other parts were annoying and made no sense but the dream was consistent for years. The same stage coach, carrying the same people; all stoic in posture and looking directly forward, as a horse pulled them swiftly through the desert. During each dream, I would be flying around the back end of the stage coach. Every once in a while, I would fly up to the windows of the coach and talk to the people inside. I wondered why they did not fly. I wondered why there was no place for me to join them inside the coach. The people inside remained stoic in posture and looking directly forward, as a horse pulled them swiftly through the desert. Over the years of this reoccurring dream, I became afraid the people would somehow force me into that coach I had been wondering about. By then, that was not an acceptable concept to me, I liked flying, a lot. Whatever they had going on inside looked miserable to me, despite the adversity I faced outside. The dust and debris that kicked up from behind the stage coach was annoying to tolerate. For some reason, my flight patterns remained at the rear of the coach, five feet or less off the ground. I was not allowed to land or pass the opening of the windows in the stage coach. The results of these restrictions left me in the dirt and debris continuously during my dreams – but still flying. That was “good enough” for years. Graduating from the sixth grade was a monumental transition relating to this dream. I was twelve years old and full of myself, graduating and all. One night during that time is the last time I remember having the reoccurring dream. It ended differently. The people inside remained stoic in posture and looking directly forward, as a horse pulled them swiftly through the desert. However, I removed the limited flight restrictions. What a relief! While staying nearby the stage coach remained important, flying above and beyond the dust and debris suddenly became acceptable. My flight that night brought extreme pleasure in my dream, I swooped and soared like never before. The dream has not returned since. My painting is pretty much what it looked like. By Joanne Perkins |