211210 Sentinel, Dreams

Sometimes I wish dreams came true.

I’ve had one that did.

The one that became true was in the summer of 1963 after I met Joyce. The dream was Joyce and I standing at the altar, me in navy dress blues and Joyce in a white dress. In January of 1964, the dream came true exactly as I had dreamt it.

Another dream I had on December 7, 2011 (I looked that up in my old files). It went like this: I saw myself as a small child beside a narrow creek. I could jump back and forth across the narrow stream. On one side of the stream, the sun was shining and the wildflowers were in full bloom up the rolling hillside. Butterflies filled the warm air, in stark contrast to the other side. The other side of the creek was dark and cold. Everything there was in the shadows. The child (me) kept hopping from one side of the creek to the other, sampling the air, the light, the whole environment, unable to decide on which side I should be. The dark side was not frightening, but it seemed to be all things past. It was everything that led me to the point where I am now. The sunny side had the new life of flowers and the mystery of what was just over the hill. The sunny side was more frightening because I had no idea of what lay over the hill. I felt best just standing in the sun, by the stream, by the flowers and looking up the hill, but not caring to climb it.

One last dream occurred when I was aboard the Kitty Hawk. It went like this: I was watching three of Joyce’s elderly relatives. One was her grandpa, one was her great aunt and the third was a more distant family member, a mister Dubler. In my dream Joyce’s grandfather and great aunt were helping mister Dubler climb over a wall. I woke up the next day and wrote Joyce a letter describing the dream. At that time, it took at least a week or more for mail to get to Saint Louis or to the ship at sea. Three days later I received a letter from Joyce, telling me mister Dubler had died. As best as we could figure he actually died the night I had the dream and our letters had passed each other going in opposite directions in the mail.

Dreams can be prophetic, silly nonsense or very scary as the three dreams I mention here. During several recent years my dreams were all fighting bad guys trying to harm me. Those were rough! Often I would end up on the floor beside the bed or wake Joyce with my shouting. These days I have fewer dreams I remember long enough to write them down in the morning. Last night however, I remember dreaming Joyce (looking many years younger and ravishing) and I were about to get lucky, when some kid came crashing through our screen door into the living room. That ruined a perfect dream.