I dreamt of a house, one I’ve seen or dreamt of before. It is a square, 2 storey home with an attic. There is a beautiful veranda with a section leading to a greenhouse. In the dream, there are actually 2 homes in 2 different locations, owned by 2 different people, but almost identical. One woman visits both homes in the dream and I joined her for the first time seeing both homes.
Travelling to the house, was an interesting experience, one I hope I can describe properly. The woman who was taking me to the second house was telling me she knew things about my mother She had a driver, we were riding in the back of her car, leaving me with the impression the woman had a certain status. She was asking me about my psychic abilities, taking me off guard, not realizing I had anything to share. Apparently my mother had certain psychic abilities, something not known to me before and coming as a bit of a surprise.
As she talked, telling me a rather strange story, the landscape previously seen from the car window completely changed – suddenly I began to see a skull in the water. She was describing this to me, this skull, and it’s location and saying it was made of gold. There were indications of a road further leading into the water past where the skull rested. She explained this was Aztec gold, as if this was an important detail for me to understand, but I didn’t. What was strange is this all seemed to happen so naturally, this ability to see so clearly what was being described to me, so I struggled to remember if this had happened to me before.
We continued on to the house which was located by the water, and because of what she had mentioned about my mother and her abilities, it occurred to me this house was connected to her in some way. Had my mother owned this house, or at least lived here for a period of time. Did I stay with her in this house when I was a child? Is this why there is such comfort and acceptance from the moment I first lay eyes on it?
In the dream it was my first visit to this home, however it was a place I could feel was loved by me. There was water nearby, a lake or wide river, maybe even the ocean. There is a sense I belong there. The dreams ended with a feeling of discomfort. The idea of living there gave me peace. The woman I am with wants to interview me about my (2nd) book, the 2nd interview of the day. I’m kind of pumped about the interviews, hoping this will bring me some income and sustainability. The woman had so many questions and there was this feeling she should have known the answers, so I was beginning to wonder if she had read the book.
Going back to sleep, I began to dream again, but this time it was not such a pleasant experience. The dream was too complicated to try and explain in detail, but the important aspect seemed to be related to someone else’s story, and once more about my ability to see and feel it.
There was a group of us sitting in a room, we were an audience, but it was a video we were watching. The man being interviewed was a professional fighter. He had extensive injuries from all his years of fighting in the ring, so he was asked why he did this to himself.
As he explained about his childhood, about the beatings for not being strong enough, I began to cry. People sitting in the room with me began to get uncomfortable. It was obvious they could not understand why the man’s story was affecting me so strongly. To them it made no sense, I was the only one crying. For me though, it was as if I was experiencing everything he described going through – it became my pain as well.
Then I began to see the trailer he lived in as a child, the trailer he has also chosen to live in as an adult. There is a unique emblem on the trailer by the door of an animal which clearly identifies it as the same trailer. In my mind, I could see he was a happy boy with a wonderful imagination. He was skipping and running towards the trailer, and as he did, several different animals poked their heads out of the various windows. They were eager for his return, perhaps he had been at school. The animals which included a panda and a giraffe, were in his imagination
Reaching the trailer, his whole demeanour changed as he realized his father was home. The next image of him was his small body on the ground under the door step trying to sleep. His punishment for something done or not done, was to sleep there after his beating, leaving him with a black eye. I was overwhelmed in the dream by my grief for this boy. We seemed united through the pain, feeling his reminded me of something from my own past. In the dream, I knew what happened to me, but the information was not carried outside the dream for me. There was a feeling of confusion upon waking.
Writing about it though, it seems to me, it is not so much what happened to me, but realizing the extent of my capabilities. In other words, my gift of feeling what others feel. This was something explained to me by the iridologist many years ago. As a child, I could only imagine the difficulty of having such a gift during my time in the camps in Argentina. Feeling the pain, the worry, the fear of those around me, something I held onto, not understanding how to let it go.
This makes me wonder if some of what I thought happened to me as a child was actually the sufferings of someone else, carrying it as if it were my own. This is difficult I am sure for someone to understand who has not experienced this kind of connection. But it is as if I am in their body, feeling what they feel, so there could be transference from such an experience as a child – without the guidance of someone showing me how to separate myself from the experience, not carry it.
The iridologist said something to me at the time, a simple explanation which helped me understand. He said even before I walk into a room, I would know if someone had had an argument before they arrived at the party, I would feel their tension. So even if they were smiling, laughing, having a good time, I would still feel the residue of their argument, despite not knowing who it belonged to. The problem lies in my inability to distinguish who the tension belongs to. I carry it as if it mine. He explained this was something I needed to learn to identify because it was affecting my health, causing my adrenal glands to collapse.
Seeing some of my stories from this new perspective gives me hope I can release more easily now what doesn’t belong to me. Over the months since the completion of my book and writing the script for the documentary, I have put quite a bit of thought into understanding the memories. What the woman in the car from my first dream, helped me understand, was my ability to see so vividly what was described to me. A reminder of what was also experienced as a child.
With these thoughts, Thinking about the dreams brings contentment. From the first dream the knowledge it’s not the house or the location, but how you feel when you are there which matters. This is what is important. I have moved over 30 times in my adult life, lived in 3 provinces, in many different types of homes. While I enjoyed some of the homes for their character, location, or both, never did they feel like my home. I learned you can create a home anywhere with personal effects, but realized, it is not the house that gave me a sense of home, it was my connection to what I brought with me to each house making it my home.
It occurred to me tonight another gift of the dreams was to offer explanation for my isolation. The other day I complained about this issue, asking for an explanation for being so cut off from the world. Is it possible the isolation was necessary in order for me to really be able to understand myself? In other words, how can I truly know what is most important to me if my choices have been influenced by feelings not my own? Despite my best intentions, without my awareness was this what was happening, have I always been making choices right for me?
Many times over the years, I have wished to live on a deserted island, void of company. Unable as I am it seems, to cope with the the world and my own experiences, this seemed to be a situation more suited to my emotional overload at times. And so here I am…….