I had a dream…well, several actually

I am blessed (or cursed) to be one of those folks who can remember my dreams. No one can tell me that dreams mean nothing, I am convinced more than ever that my dreams are telling me something.

It’s been a tumultuous October. The decision to change is not one I take lightly, especially when it comes to jobs. So it’s not surprising to me that my dreams reflect this.

It started Thursday, with a dream that was dark and dreary. In this dream I was walking stone corridors. It was dark and dank, and quite chilly. The floor crunched under my feet as I wandered. It was gritty and littered with rocks. I turned a corner and saw a miniature stone castle, like a child’s playhouse. Inside was a golem, but an infant. I was scared and threw a rock, breaking off a piece of his little clay head. I was instantly horrified and scooped him up and comforted him. He snuggled with me and we went outside into the sunshine.
(Side note-I felt perplexed as to why one would craft a baby golem, when their purpose was to serve. How could this infant trapped in a stone castle serve anyone?)

The next nights’ dream also had an infant. In this dream I stated to another that the baby needs a bath. The other gently set the baby in the commode and began bathing him. Horrified, I snapped at the other, took the baby and bathed him in the tub. Then I realized the other felt terrible and simply didn’t know how to bathe the baby.

Saturday I dreamed I was walking and talking with a grungy man with long dreadlocks and a pure white Labrador retriever. He talked about how no one listened to him, no matter what church he went to. They all ridiculed his thoughts.
We discussed hunger, cruelty toward women, children and animals and in general, hate in the world. We were kicking around ideas and how the world needed to change its mindset and find balance.

Then, on Sunday at work, I had a conversation with an amazing woman.
All she did was ask if I knew anyone with kids who had old coats.
Then she told me her story. She was stabbed(I saw the scars) and left for dead by her ex husband. She spoke of the fear of leaving him, and that feeling that she caused it. This rang close to my heart, having been through so much with my best friend earlier this year. Then she spoke of an “underground” group of women who took women and children into their own homes and helped to get them on their feet. After she got stable, vowed she would speak for and help those who are unable.
This woman lives close to poverty not because she makes no money, but because she gives. Last year, when their coat drive didn’t have enough, she went to 4 goodwill stores and bought coats for them. She gives her time, money and her spirit to those in need. This MOVED me.

So I spent some time when I got home making a list of friends with young kids that I could email/call to see if they had spare coats. I fell asleep quickly, feeling filled with hope that my generous friends would help me help her.

And that night the dream(memory) was familiar, and welcome. This is one I’ve had before, always when I need it the most.
…it’s 1984. It’s fall. I’m driving (on my permit) my moms red Grand Torino. At the top of Hershey Road, I turn right onto Saltsburg. “Cut it tight” my dad says. As we drive he says “take us home” and I must’ve looked nervous because he said, as he always does as this point “don’t worry, your going the right way”.

I have never been more sure that I am exactly where I should be RIGHT NOW.
I’ve been moved by these dreams, this woman and I hope to embark on a mission to help, everywhere possible for the next phase of my life.

The smallest things can make the biggest difference.

(Side note realization-the golem would serve through me-mind blown)

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