The Theme is The Dream

Andora is Almost Ready For Dream Time

Or, more appropriately, the theme of this post is a particular dream I had in the past.

It seems like April has started as the Dream Theme month. First came the amazing “Dream Description Drawing Contest” over at the fantastic Facebook page for Chrononym Laboratories.  A day later this great post over at By Stang and Eagle. Add that to the ebb and flow dream discussions occurring on Twitter and it would seem that dreams are in the Spring air.

I thought I would share one of the most vivid dreams I have had in a long time with you fine folks. This happened about two years ago and has stayed as vivid in my mind as it was the morning I awoke up from it.

I had a bit of trouble falling asleep that night. I turned the light on my nightstand off, pulled the covers over me and tried to settle in. It took a while on this particular night, but after about 30 minutes of deep breathing exercises I found myself being heavily lulled off to sleep. At first I remember being amused due to the fact that I would enter a “scene” like an alley way or a field by a river, and would just start to enjoy my surroundings, when all of a sudden the image I was holding of the “scene” would start to waver and eventually vanish completely. Between these different “scenes” (I’d say there were probably 5 or 6 of them in total) I found myself surrounded by a hazy mist-fog of undetermined structure or shape. I was not floating, as I distinctly remember that my feet were planted firmly on the ground.

After the first few times this happened I realized that I was searching for something…trying to find something or someone through the fog. By the second to last time I was starting to get worried, low level though, without any real panic. The last time this happened I appeared in the center of a deserted brick alleyway in a city. This time I was frantic. I could feel my heart beating against my chest. This time I understood what I was searching for, and why. It was my wife Sara, and I knew that she was not feeling well and that I needed to get to her.

As I realized the alley scene was staying for me, I started to examine the dumpsters and various fire escapes. I chose one and started to climb up the ladder to the first metal landing. I climbed up a few more flights and entered a door that led to one of the apartment building’s hallways. One door in the hall was ever so slightly cracked open. I didn’t catch the apartment’s number (though I wish I had) but understood that this was the door I needed to enter.

I placed my palm squarely in the middle of the apartment’s front door and slowly pushed it open. I stepped into a beautiful kitchen furnished circa middle-1900’s Americana. The overall color of the room was light green, yellow, and white. The L-shaped Formica counter was a thing of speckled beauty. The oval, off-green refrigerator of yesteryear was perfect. The table was covered with a checkerboard red and white cloth, the kind usually reserved for picnics, however this one was really cloth and not like the cheap plastic ones of today.

Sitting at this kitchen table, having a light meal of tea and sandwiches, were two African-American woman, clearly sisters, who appeared to be in their late 20’s. They barely looked up at me and continued to enjoy the spread set out before them. Leaning up against the counter was an African-American man who looked to be around 45 years old. He was dressed in tan pants, a plaid shirt, and suspenders. He eyed me with much more suspicion then the sisters could be bothered with.

I looked to my left and saw, through an open bedroom door, Sara laying on a cot or a small, single bed. She had a pillow placed under her head and had a blanket over her. She didn’t look to be in any danger at all, but did look ill. Symptoms of a possible fever or flu were visible. I immediately made for the room, my stomach starting to knot up. That’s when the first word of the dream was spoken.

“Wait a minute,” said the black man. It was not forceful, nor was it entirely soft. It was packed with enough authority, and demanded enough respect, that I stopped going to my wife’s bedside and turned to face the man. He went over to the table, picked up a silver bowl-shaped vessel which was being used to hold sugar or contain cream (or possibly gravy) and proceeded to dump out the contents into the sink. He then held the handle of the polished silver bowl in his left hand, raising it up, bottom facing towards me, until it was at face level. I could see my own reflection looking back at me.

He started to ask me questions about what I was doing in my life. I knew he meant my “real life” outside of the dream. I answered the questions he coolly shot at me. They all pertained to certain ingredients, roots, and ways to approach different magical situations for other people. He did not instruct me, comment, or let on that I was correct (which made me slightly nervous, as if I were taking a pop quiz on facts I already knew but was scared I would forget in the heat of the moment). His mouth had the thinnest smile on it, which became my single point of calmness. If he keeps that thin smile on his face then I’m alright here, I thought. I answered all of his questions truthfully and as best as I could.

I finally mustered up some courage, remembering that I felt the need to get to Sara as soon as I could, and asked, before he could shoot me another query, “The silver is so that I will have to tell you the truth, right?” I pointed to the silver vessel. The sisters immediately looked up at me from their table. All three seemed mildly shocked, almost amused, and immediately let their guard down a bit. I finally got the full smile across the man’s face that I had been waiting (though more like hoping) for. He did the smallest of chuckles and laid the silver bowl gently in the porcelain sink. The entire atmosphere of the room/dream changed in seconds. A weight was lifted.

The sisters smiled and went back to their tea and snacks, now with an added chatter of small talk and gossip. The man reclaimed his perch, leaning back against the counter and sipped his coffee. He motioned me, with a small, sideways head-nod and a scant flick of his fingers, toward the bedroom. I immediately broke my frozen stance and ran to the bedside. There, I found Sara to be slightly sick but recuperating nicely. Her fever had broke and she was enjoying her nap time. I came to find that the three people from the kitchen were looking after her and had said that they would protect her from anyone that tried to get to her. Since they did not know who I was they had to try and keep me from gaining access to her room.

The last thing I remember, before waking up, was my hand on Sara’s slightly warm and clammy forehead as I knelt next to her cot. The sounds behind me, coming from the kitchen, were warm and light-hearted as the three situated themselves around the table to do something. I got the impression it was to play something. Dominoes? Perhaps cards?

The dream is still as vivid as when I was dreaming it. I can describe lines in the man’s face. The few frayed strands of thread on his shirt. The bone white cabinets and beautiful kitchen curtains of faded yellow and green letting the city sun barely peek through. It stands as one of my most favorite dreams.

There is, of course, one more aspect to this story and if you’ve read this far I am sure it will delight you.

Sara (in real life) had recently finished up some seriously in-depth psychic vision spell work. Two weeks full of candles, concentration, oils, incense, powders, more concentration, many baths…all culminating in the construction of a psychic vision specific mojo bag. She then continued to work and dress the bag for a while after that. She was, at that time, sleeping with it pinned to the inside of her pillow. It happens that we decided to switch our bedroom to the room we currently sleep in, and our pillows got switched in the re-arrangement. For just that night. That is the dream it made manifest to me. I found this out later that day when (while making the bed look slightly more made) I felt the lump in, what I had thought to be, my pillow. I immediately called Sara and let her know. We were both speechless and giddy at the same time. I will carry this dream with me always.
-Joseph Magnuson

(Thanks to everyone who has been sharing their own dreams this month. It has been really great to read all of your stories.)

6 thoughts on “The Theme is The Dream

    • Joseph Magnuson says:

      I hadn’t thought of that! I know that people use Dominoes for this purpose, but I could never quite get exactly what they were getting ready to play, so I put it out of my mind. Something to think about!

    • Joseph Magnuson says:

      I’m going to reply to this comment as well, since it has your nice picture with it. So…um, hello again and thank you! We finally added your link to our Friends & Family Section! Took us long enough. 🙂

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