It Takes a Village to Raise a Child

My dream last night was no doubt influenced by the upcoming fun day on the lake with my church.   In the dream, Sharla and I were going to go somewhere together.  We had been in some building that had the same layout of my childhood home, and I was supposed to meet her in the parking garage off the den.

While I was trying to leave, some blond 3-year-old boy threw his arms around me in a giant hug.  It was darling, and I had to work to get him separated from me.  Nearby was a 6-month-old girl dressed in a frilly, white dress with a lacy white hat.  She was propped up with pillows.  Another child was there also and did something disobedient.  I raised my hand as if to swat at her, but instead scolded her with my words.  Her parents saw and were very angry with me.

So how does that relate to a fun day at my church?  I think it relates because of the community experience at the church and the hope that every adult in the church would do their part in ensuring the godly upbringing of children.  Perhaps that’s not phrased well, but I recently awoke.

Back to Work

It's hard to describe last night's dreams; it was as if my dreams were waking me up--and that was it.  My dream was that I was being woken up and I was being woken up.  This happened a little after 4 AM, then 5 AM, then I woke from an actual narrative.

One of which included me going to a morning shift at work (at the healthcare job).  Typically I work the 2-10 or 3-11, but I was working the 6-2.  I got there and realized it was a day one of the residents had to go to day program, so I immediately began getting him ready to go.  I ended up getting distracted by some things and was suddenly overwhelmed by all the staff that was there.  Apparently random employees of the company came over just to hang out in between things.  I found the other staff that was working and wondered if she had given the resident his breakfast and pills before he got on the bus.  At some point the house transformed into the house I grew up in.  I looked at the driveway and he was getting into the bus.  On my way out, I had noticed his meds were prepped but not yet given.

I then talked to Mai--the other staff--to see if she had given the medications or not.  My supervisor was around and talking so I remember talking to her.  Much of this part of the dream was the frustration that I was trying to get things done but was unable to really do anything.

At some point I walked out to the driveway--perhaps to go home--and I met three of our neighbors, two males and one female.  They were all African, and were around the same age as I was.  They said they had never met anyone who lived in the house.  So I introduced myself and we talked for a while, and one of them pulled out his camera and randomly began photographing our introduction.

My First Visit to Ostrava

My dream began with the prospect of doing parent-teacher conferences at my old middle school.  I had suddenly heard about them and was unprepared.  I figured they were in the evening, so I went to the middle school and planned on preparing for them after class.  Part of my lack of preparation was my wardrobe.  I was wearing red and yellow plaid pants.  While walking across the street with a student or someone, I walked knee-deep through muddy water.

When I arrived at the middle school, I found that instead of evening parent-teacher conferences, they were to start at 3 pm.  Moreover, this was the last day of school.  During classes I scrambled to finish things up and also to review with the students so that they would appear brilliant at the conferences.  At one point I remember a student specifically using the word "pointillism" in our review--though she had paired it with some other polysyllabic word.  Throughout the time the classroom was packed and at some point the conferences began, though I don't recall seeing a single parent.

Next I found myself at work at the group home.  At one point I realized I had taken three residents on an outing--I'm not sure how considering that would mean I would be pushing three wheelchairs.  From their it transitioned into being in the Czech Republic.

I think I was taking a train from the little town in Iowa to Ostrava, as if they were in the same state or country.  Simultaneously, it was as if I was traveling from Prague to Ostrava.  I had my camera with me and I was seated with Daniel J.--a friend from a past trip to China (in real life).  I began taking pictures of all we passed.  The train was a bit elevated, making for an interesting view.  i saw old building structures, including something like the catacombs.  All over, there was heavy building machinery, showing this was an industrial town.  I was in awe of all the beauty and during the ride I also saw a traditional wedding.  The aura of everything was not that I was in Czech Republic, but that I was in something straight from Arabian nights.  The people were darkly complected, and their even seemed to be Arab music.  The architecture, however, was like a dusty Russian architecture with spires and domes.  I think I was maybe transforming the Czech Republic into Turkey due to my friend Rachel's recent return from there.

I sensed we were on a train, but perhaps we were on a bus, because I remember looking out at the lanes of traffic.  Out there I saw paper-thin porcelain sailboats made by some artist.  I suspected Rachael (now Rachael W.) had made them.  They were beautiful and delicate and sitting on the painted lane dividers.  Some of the ships lay smashed, others were still in tact.

At some point we turned around and returned to a market area near a bay.  There were what appeared to be columns in front of a market tent, but the "columns" were made of strings of beads.  At each column was a man who would climb the column and then repel down it.  Nearby was a group of people singing or chanting.  They were somehow in or wearing this wooden structure while they sang; it was in the shape of an "s" and was hand-carved from wood.  The music was full of wonderful harmonies, and as I observed I heard some words (supposedly) by Anne Lamott.  She observed about the place that she would be overcome by the beauty of the singing every morning and night and she marveled at the unity it expressed of the people.

The singing ended and people dispersed.  The wooden structure was left, though now smaller, and I was washing it in the sink.  Before I knew it, the festive throng had joined together again, this time for a wedding ceremony.  We moved to an open field where we circled up, men standing consecutively, then women.  Two boys ran over to the women's section to be funny, but the master of ceremonies required they stay where they were.  The people in the circle were simultaneously adults and children.  I found that this dance of the bridal party was also to be a sort of red-rover-style matchmaking experience.  Before the two sides of the circle came together and predicted the match, there was a great singing.  It was like a chant and at first I thought it was a Buddhist ritual, but then in the words that were sung, I came to think that it could not be anything but Christian.  The words washed over me and spoke of love, brotherhood, and unity.  The particular phrases and words used escape me, but I was near tears in my dream from their beauty.  Unfortunately, the wonderful words were interrupted by my alarm.

Church Canoe Trip

Perhaps it is the frequent change of scenery and sleeping arrangements that has my dreams slipping through my fingers shortly after waking.  Or perhaps it is because I am so eager to hold onto my dreams that I suddenly find myself unable to recall their content.  Last night's dream, however, I was able to recall.

It began with me seated in a canoe in a body of water bordered on all sides with brickwork.  The bay area held many canoes occupied by persons from my church.  Backpacks and people were loaded into canoes as the group of us was to head off for a day's outing.  I had arrived early but remembered some item I had forgotten (perhaps a phone charger for the canoe) and was at odds to determine whether or not to retrieve the item because of the time.  I decided initially against it, yet the party was not to leave until our pastor arrived.  He was running late and I risked retrieving the item.  The rest of the group departed in my absence, and I was left to figure out the route alone.

I had run into what in my dream was North Minneapolis--though it resembled my small Iowa hometown moreso.  I took a back route through an alley and encountered a student that I had had while subbing.  I eventually made it into some sort of shop.  I was debating purchasing a car (canoe?) charger for my phone.  My phone battery was very low and I knew that I would be canoeing to the location alone.  I decided that I ought to make the expense in the name of safety.  I consulted with my friend and fellow-adventurer, Heather B., to figure out how to canoe from North Minneapolis to wherever the rest of the party was.  She told me about the direction of the rivers and I began to realize it was strangely similar to the rivers near Trout Lake Camp, where we had once been counselors.

I was just about to board my canoe alone when I awoke.

I think my dreaming may have been affected by my recent visit to southwest Iowa, viewing the Missouri River flooding, and also by my plans to join my church in a day on the lake.

Had a dream about you . . .

So, I've decided to allow for some guest-appearances in the blog.  However, because I am a narcissist, I am only allowing dreams others have had about me.  While walking into Cub Foods to buy a watermelon today, I received notice of such a dream via text message.

"Had a crazy dream dat we (u and me) were rescuing abducted kids from a ranch, then da bad guys came in and u beat every last one of them up.  U were punching n kicking everybody.  Me n da kids just stood there n awe! Isn't dat hilarious? :-)"

I was very entertained, and asked if I could blog it.  He wanted to send me a more polished email depiction, but then he decided on just laying it down and having me spice it up.  I am hesitant to do so because it wasn't my dream.  So here is his email, which relays a little more detail.

"It was winter time. Snow covered the ground as we tip-toed pass a beautiful black horse on a ranch. 'Come on. It's this way,' you tell me. The horse neighs as if to agree. We enter the house and go upstairs. The first room we enter there are 3 frightened kids, apparently, just waiting to be rescued. I go over to them, 'Everything's gonna be alright. We'll get you out of here.' That's when three men enter the room and Bruce Lee Charity attacks. You were punching and kicking, knocking the guys all over the room. The children and I just watched in astonishment. I think my mouth may have even been opened in awe. Afterward, the men lay on the ground moaning, you turn to us, 'let's go.' Then I woke up."

Jennifer Aniston and Twinkies

Last night I dreamed that while I was absent one night from my current accomodations, Yvette's brother came and stayed.

Then my dream shifted and I was in some kind of treatment facility.  Jennifer Aniston was there and someone started mixing a drink and she cracked and went for the vodka.  Later in my dream I was in a car, and we were supposed to go right--Dana was telling Nathan this--but Nathan got into the left turn lane because he wanted to go get Twinkies.  I really didn't want Twinkies for breakfast, but I felt helpless in the backseat.

Can you tell that the latter was a dream I had while waking this morning?

Childhood Dream Journal

"PRIVATE. FOR CHARITY'S EYES ONLY!"

This is what I wrote in pencil on the opening page of my Kittens Journal.  Yes.  Kittens.  I specifically recall receiving two such journals from my paternal grandparents at the end of my elementary years.  I had been crazy about books written journal/diary style and I was in possession of multiple journals.  Something in my 11-year-old mind decided to dedicate one of these journals to recording my dreams.  I have a glimmer of a memory--sitting on my day bed and writing out titles to cue me on which dreams I wanted to record.  Then I went for it.  I wrote down as many dreams as I could possibly remember in my first 11 years of life.

Reading through this journal, I came across themes: childhood crushes, tornadoes, childhood friends, and drama.  I was surprised to find that in many of my dreams I could stop a violent situation with just my words.  Anyhow, now if you go back into the archive to 1999, you will find 50 recorded childhood dreams.  Note the interesting vocabulary choices and the absence of the use of periods.  I made an effort to try not to correct myself and to leave the grammar, spelling, and capitalization as I wrote it in 1999.

Perhaps I will renew the vigor I had in '99 and take up the same task I took up then--writing those dreams down that I still have in memory but which I have never written down.  So it goes.  I hope you enjoy meandering through my mind this way.  I think certain themes come up that do reveal how I think and what I believe.