I have had many odd dreams in my day. In one many many many years ago, my parents and sisters and I were all sitting in my parents’ living room getting ready to open Christmas gifts when suddenly a pack of medieval Turkish warriors broke in all of the door and windows. They were in typical body armor and were wielding swords and battle axes. They kept screaming, “You will use a footrest! You will use a footrest!” That is what my waking life used to inspire in my sleeping dreams.
Two or three years ago, I had a dream about my final judgement. I was sitting at a chair in a courtroom where my life was on trial. Half of the jury were Muppets. At one point I said something deep and meaningful about human existence, and a bunch of bright lights started flashing. My chair rose up into the clouds. They had no room for me yet in the castle of heaven, though, so the chair left me at the gift shop at the exit from heaven to wait for my room to be ready. There, I met my arranged husband who led me to our place in the castle. The hallways of the castle of heaven were full of passionate Argentine tango dancers. That is what my waking life inspired two or three years ago.
About a year ago, I was in a forest assaulted on all sides by allegory when I found myself under attack by a demented version of Care Bears. They were still bears with heart-shaped noses that wore pastels, but that was all they had in common with the originals. They wore things like guillotines and hangman’s nooses on their tummies, and they were vicious to me. I was rescued by ceramic garden gnomes that had come to life. They defended me with their gardening equipment, lanterns, and accordions. A wheelbarrow can prove to be very useful when defending against teddy bear attacks.
Lately, asleep here on the couch in the TV lounge for safety away from the night staff, my dreams have been very different. They now have epic and sweeping storylines, yet all I am capable of in each dream is stunted by an outside oppressive force. My physical movements end in broken dismembered limbs. My sweet, protective thoughts end in a blasted consciousness. My every decision is squashed under the heel of personal persecution supported with public oppression. In my dreams, I cannot go to eat food without all food being taken away from all people everywhere to prevent it. Yet, somehow, in my dreams, a grand, sweeping storyline will still take place in which people rise up and confront their oppressors... as if somehow in my persecuted state I have inspired millions to fight for themselves.
I have had dreams in which I helped end racism and ethnic violence.
I have had dreams where I have helped end the suffering of populations.
I have even had dreams where I helped bring about a lasting peace. (I am a firm believer in the peace process, but I believe Abbas should be careful and tread safely... though not necessarily cautiously.)
These are the things that take up my mind now at night. These are the things that take over my mind when I rest and sleep. Maybe someday we will see good come from my dreams.
As a final, unrelated thought, my package from a clothing company in the States called Alloy is still missing. It should have arrived a week ago at the latest. Let us hope that British customs officials or day staff here did not steal it from me as well. They have stolen enough.