I'm going to tell you a few of them today. Give you the time sequence, which indicates nothing, except how very long and how very well I can still remember some of my dreams. And off we go.
Back in late 1997, early 1998, Josh and I went to see the movie Titanic. The newer version with Leo Dicaprio and Kate Winslet. From a cinema point of view, it was beautifully done. From the real story point of view it was awful. It was depressing. It was all too human. And I will never get past the scene of grown people, grown men, pushing women and children aside to save themselves. Or just as haunting, the last scene where dead bodies are floating aimlessly in the ocean.
To this day, I can remember coming out of that movie theater with Joshua and never in my life, being so glad to see the sun shining and the real world still in motion. For days, that movie haunted my thoughts and consumed my mind and my heart.
July of 98', now divorced since early 97', I moved to Quincy with my children. Not too many weeks later, I would dream my own Titanic story that would stick with me, even today. My dream had one main scene. Unforgettably a soul searching experience.
I am overboard. As I struggle to stay above water, I am staring back at the huge ship that has just released itself from the bottom up, and toppled every one on it, out into the black, dark sea. My daddy is with me. Somehow we managed to wind up together. I'm dog paddling as hard as I can to keep my head above water. And my Daddy is doing the same. Suddenly, he says he just can't do it anymore. And he begins to go under.
Every time he dips down, I'm pulling and tugging on that green sweater with all my might. And oh my God, it is making him so much heavier. It's wet, and the weight of the sweater has doubled. I'm begging my daddy, to please, please try. I need your help. We can do this. And he just looks at me and says, please, just let me go, I'm tired. It's alright Chell Bell, just let me go.
I begin to look around, for someone, anyone who can help me. And as I turn my head to the left, I see my ex husband holding my two year old Zachary, Joshua, and my mother. They were all standing. Not struggling. Not fighting to stay above water, much less alive. Just standing there, watching me and my Daddy as we struggled.
Now, in my mind in the dream, and in my mind today when I am awake, I say to you the reader, that they were only standing in water that came to their knees. All of them. And I knew the reason why, when my eyes were shut tight, as well as I know it now, when they are wide open. They were the "good people". They weren't struggling to live and keep the black nasty water out of their lungs, because they were all that is good. And me and my daddy, well, we have always been the against the grain people in our family. Not always following the rules, but in the end, always paying for our sins. As it should be. As it was, in my mind, in this dream.
Now to this day, I cannot tell you why in the heck my ex was standing there. While he is not an awful human being, he did his share of wrong doing while we were married. But Zachary, Joshua, and my Mama..yes sir, for me, they represented the ultimate goodness in this world.
Dreams. Strange things these dreams that won't go away. How they play on your mind. Three months ago we were watching some show about alligators and crocodiles. Not Swamp People, more like a documentary. Anyway, one of these people has their arm bitten off by a gator. OFF. I have no idea why I was watching it. I knew better.
That night, I'm lying down to sleep, and of course, that show comes back into my mind. I'm trying to think of anything BUT that. I finally rid my head of those crazy images and I drift into sleep. It was not to be a peaceful sleep however. But instead of dreaming about gators, I dream about bears.
The only people in the dream that I can remember are me, Zach and Mims. Zach is a little boy. About two or three years old maybe. We're running, like running for our lives. And I turn back because I can no longer feel his hand in mine. He has let go. I can see him sitting on the ground. I run back to get him, and before I can get to him this huge bear scoops him up. And right before my eyes, begins to flip and flop and shake my precious baby like a rag doll. He won't stop. He won't let go. He's ripping off his arms and I am screaming beyond the decimal sounds imaginable. Then suddenly the bear stops. He lays Zach down on the ground. Blood is everywhere and I run to him. But the arm I saw being ripped off is still there. He's looking at me. He's alive. And I wake up.
I have a lot of crazy dreams. But I am hear to tell you, that dream shook me up pretty bad. It was one of those reoccurring dreams too. Like for several nights after. I was scared to close my eyes. I told my oldest son Joshua and Mims about the dream. Sometimes, I think I feel like if I say it out loud, it won't be real anymore, and it will go away.
Zach and his buds had been talking and planning this camping trip for two months. Clearing land, chopping fire wood, you name it, they've been doing it, to get prepped. Two or three nights ago, Mims is telling Zach this that or another about what to do if this, or what to do if that, and he starts talking about the food. That if they have any food left over, they need to make sure it's in their vehicles locked up where animals can't smell it. He makes a joke about raccoons all up in their tents. Then he makes a joke about bears.
Now, I don't have to tell you where this is going. For days after, this camping trip made me sick at my stomach. Worrying. About dreams ~vs~ reality. So scared, so paranoid, I wanted to make him cancel the trip. Or tell him he couldn't go. Crazy, irrational thoughts continued to crowd out my common sense. I confided my fears to Joshua, and he assured me everything was going to be alright. I did not say a word to Zachary.
The camping trip was a success, No one got hurt, no one did anything stupid. They're all just tired and worn out from no sleep and freezing to death. No grizzly bears. No dangers. No reality from horrible dreams.
I'm not sure what makes the dreaming process such a mysterious deal. Or why, some dreams really do become reality. Because they have. You know, I guess the same way your mind, when you're awake, does that de ja vu thing it can do. Well, at least mine can. And sometimes, my stomach warns me about something before it really happens. I just try and respect the signs I receive, and separate the drama from the situation.
I have a couple of more dreams, that turned into real situations. But that's enough for one reading. I don't want to give out too much information at once. I don't want anybody planning an intervention. Especially one that involves a lobotomy or a straight jacket (wink wink).
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