I woke up and looked at the clock. 3:33, to be exact.
Funny. “3” is my “special” number.
But it was much too early to be awake….even if it was cool to see 3:33.
I rolled over and went back to sleep.
Waking up again….I looked at the clock.
Too tired to even think through that one, I closed my eyes again and sighed, blissfully remembering the nights of nothingness I took for granted.
Curiosity prompted me to look at the clock again.
I think there is a movie like that…but I haven’t seen it in years.
Once more I woke up…
Then I woke up. And realized it had all been a dream. Waking up over and over again throughout the night makes for some crazy rest. Even if you aren’t really waking up.
Ummm…..yep. That happened.
Then last night I dreamed very actively about being in this poor part of a big city, and holding poor, crying, dirty babies and hugging them as I talked to their mothers and tried to help them move to safer places. There were boys on skateboards that I knew by name and we smiled and waved at each other.
I went away, but felt compelled to return. I needed to help these people.
But when I got back, it had been years and years and the place that was so populated was like a ghost town. One man came walking toward me, but he was scary looking and I tried to move away. He called out my name, and then told me that I helped him when he was a boy, and that I hadn’t been afraid of him then. He was still the same person, he explained…so why would I try to run from him? I was confused and frustrated…and thinking.
As I woke up out of this dream, I heard a voice say, “This is what you are preparing for.”
Wow. Dreams are interesting. I like them. Most of them. But where do they come from anyway?