Many of us can remember our childhood dreams and nightmares quite clearly. Sometimes they were reoccurring, sometimes very vivid. Perhaps yours kept you awake at night, or maybe those dreams were so wonderful that you never wanted to wake up. There were dreams so good that although you had woken up, you would lie there trying to go back to sleep just to enjoy that dream again.
Do you remember your best and your worst dreams? Perhaps the infamous “going to school naked” was your nightmare. Perhaps you had the glorious dreams of flying through the air, on what felt like a magic carpet ride.
Me, I can’t remember the best dreams, but I clearly remember waking up and wishing I could get back to dreamland and find out the rest of the “story”, distracted for the rest of the day trying to figure out how next it would have gone.
But the nightmares, oh I can clearly remember those, well that one actually. It was always the same nightmare, over and over and over again. The dreams of growing up in Africa, a kid who climbed trees from as far back as she could remember, one who always was a child of nature. It started when I was about 4yrs old, I remember it as though I was still in that dream right here and now!
I was playing outside in the garden, my mother watering the flower beds and talking to me. But then a scream from up the road, I was half way up a tree the fragrant frangipani flower that I was trying to pick just out of reach, and mother shouted to me to get inside and she ran to the house. The warm summer sun suddenly seemed so cold, I got down as fast as I could, and ran up the stairs to the door, but it was too late, it was locked closed. I started crying, turned around and saw walking down the road staring at me was a tiger. His claws clicking on the tar, soft rumble of his growl telling 4yr old me of his intention. His gaze turned and I saw the steely cold black eyes of the beast pick his next meal – me. I screamed and banged on the door, but the silence was deafening, no one came. The street was empty, no people around, my own home suddenly cold and quiet. He started stalking me, I ran towards the frangipani tree which suddenly seemed so small, and as the beast ran at me, ready to pounce – I awoke!
I must have woken up from that dream right at that point 30 or more times during my childhood, the last time I can remember actually having it, I was about 12.
But dreams are just processes of the mind, not omens, not signs. Just your brain’s way of sorting out and doing filing. Heaven only knows what my brain was trying to sort out with that nightmare though. Perhaps one too many books (I was taught to read and love books from as young as 2 ½), or who knows, maybe some Disney film twisted my mind.
In any case, from when I was about 15, I always carried my own set of house keys and a decent pocket knife on my person, so no tigers are making a dinner out of me tonight, or any other time…..
If you feel like sharing you best or worst dreams, feel free to comment.