Come sit with me, let's visit

Come sit with me, let's visit

Sunday, March 20, 2011


I have haunted dreams. They are haunted by my dead. The ones I have pronounced dead. My dead. They belong to me. There is something intimate about being present with the dead. It is personal, someone called 9-1-1 and now, standing in the bedroom, I have worked the Paramedic magic, and their body has failed.

But I take each one with me, like a badge or an albatross, I don't know which. To be present at the moment of death is a remarkable event. There was once, that I was working on what going badly, no matter what I did. At the end, I was the one doing CPR and I was directing the rest of the folks that were there to do as I asked. There were four of us in the back of the ambulance, sweating and breathing hard. Two working at each place on this man, to reverse, or postpone, what we all knew would happen, me doing my part, and the patient failing. Trying to get him into an ER where there were more resources and more folks. Suddenly, the lights got very bright in the back of the ambulance. This was my beloved 2676 that had a good solid pattern in its misbehavior. The lights were a new problem, could be the electrical system, or the distributor, the power conversion system. I looked toward the ceiling, to see if things were as bad as all that. The light wasn't coming from the interior lights. It was around me. Bright. Very Bright, and very warm. I suddenly felt very calm, and a question popped into my mind "Why are you working so hard?" It wasn't my voice. It was male and he was ever so peaceful. Then the lights went back to normal. He was pronounced dead shortly after we arrived at the hospital. The other folks in the back of the ambulance with me, saw light, thought it was the truck lights too, but it 'looked funny'. And they were too busy to check all that, afraid I would yell at them for not doing as I instructed.

My dreams are haunted by these people. Those I worked on, I became part of the breathing system, or I could try to control their heart beat. There are also those I couldn't do anything for, and they are here too. They don't seem to be trying to hurt me, but their sudden presence is frightening, sometimes. Like a horror flick, the world is turning on it's axis, all is right and "BLAM" someone gets run over by a bus. All their wounds and my perspective a replay of reality.

I have been reading about dreams and their meanings. I know, magic, psycho-poo-poo. But I find them useful tools. It helps sometimes to learn that 'if you are bound in your dream it symbolizes the need to be free'. Sounds simplistic enough, and often they are easy once I take them apart and look them over.

"To see something burning in your dream, indicates that you are experiencing some intense emotions and/or passionate sexual feelings. There is some situation or issue that you can no longer avoid and ignore.  Alternatively, it may suggest that you need to take time off for yourself and relax. Perhaps you are you feeling "burned out" or "burned up". " Huh- burned up, you say? Hard to imagine. Or, "Babies symbolize something in your own inner nature that is pure, vulnerable, helpless and/or uncorrupted." Sometimes you have to take elements apart, to see them clearly; a bird with a  beard, singing in a flowering bush:  there is the bird singing (aspirations and hope); he has a beard (old age and insight); and the flowering bush (personal growth). All together it is a hope that you would be wise in your old age, and will (or are) growing in that direction. Sometimes a cake is just a cake, and means nothing. Getting side tracked is easy, but what rings true is what should be addressed, no matter how painful.

Sometimes my dreams are senseless garbage, something my brain decided was recreational as opposed to important. Like an Alice in Wonderland fantasy. Nothing rational or real, just a smile without a cat, or a top hat too large for any real person to wear. A mouse working the metal of a sword to perfect sharpness. 

No matter the terrors of the night. The dead have left me each with something, like the coins given to the Ferryman. I must create the value of it to me. Be weak where I must be fragile and delicate. Be strong when that is called for. Ultimately tearing down the facade that I have created over so many years and be what I AM.

Dream Dictionary : An A to Z Guide to Understanding Your Unconscious Mind

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