These Dreams ...
Nov. 13th, 2006 07:20 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
texchanI had the most detailed, vivid dream a couple of nights ago. It was an odd dream -- although I suspect most dreams are a bit odd. But, it was so just incredible that, even now, a couple of days later, the images and memory of it are still kicking around in my brain.
I was with my husband, and we were walking in the downtown area of some city. I'm not sure which city it was. It could have been DC, which is, basically, where we live. Or, it could have been Houston or San Antonio, both places we have, also, lived. Or, even Philadelphia -- not a former home of ours, but a place we just recently visited. This past week, in fact. Anyhow, it was, pretty much, your generic downtown, city-type scene -- lots of concrete ... tall buildings looming over us and shutting out the sun ... everything looking gray. We were walking down the middle of a street. I remember looking down and seeing double yellow lines painted on the pavement and thinking it was so strange there were no cars around. There weren't any people, either. No traffic sounds, none of that background "white noise" type of stuff that you get when you put a lot of people all together in one small place. Just ... silence. Except I could hear birds singing. I didn't see any birds, but I could hear their songs -- lilting and lyrical, rising above all the gray around us with a poignant beauty that almost made me want to cry.
I didn't know where we were going, but I just followed my husband. This isn't an unusual occurrence for me, really. He and I have been together for a long time -- 15 years, 7 of those as a married couple -- and I have this tendency toward getting lost. Let's just say I'm often geographically challenged and leave it at that. The oddity of it all is that, often, I'm very good at figuring out different subway and metro rail systems. I seem always to know exactly where we are going, where we need to get off, and in which direction we need to travel to reach our destination -- even in cities where I don't speak the language. I'm kind of like an idiot savant that way, I suppose. But, that's not relevant to this particular dream. Suffice to say, I have just grown accustomed to following along behind my husband when we are together. Yes, it doesn't say very much about me as an "independent, liberated" woman of the new millenium. But, it's our dynamic, and it works for us.
So, we walk ... and walk ... and walk. It seems like we walk forever in this gray concrete jungle. Without ever seeing another person. Without seeing any cars. Without seeing any signs of life at all. Just walking down the middle of this huge street, with the buildings looming over us, following the yellow painted lines off into the distance.
We come to this hill and climb. And, at the top ... everything changes.
It's like the entire world opens up beneath us. The hill on which we are standing drops straight down. I mean straight down -- like, if you looked over the edge, you would believe you were going to fall off the face of the earth. Yeah, that kind of scary-huge drop off. And, below us, spread out in a valley is just this incredible, bright, vivid burst of color. Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Brown ... undulating back and forth, back and forth, in waves. At first, my mind can't register the sight. I think it must be the ocean. We must have walked all the way to the ocean, and I'm looking down at it moving in waves, reflecting back the sunlight or something. But, then, my mind clears a bit, and I realize it's not water I'm looking at -- it's trees. Hundreds and thousands of trees, spreading out as far as my eyes can see, blowing in the wind, which is creating the wave-like effect. It's so much color and so bright, I almost can't process it after all the gray we just walked through. Even the hill on which we are standing -- right up until the very top, it's paved, with the yellow line in the middle. The street, from the city. But, as soon as the drop-off starts, the hill is green, covered in soft grass that, also, blows in the wind, creating waves of motion.
I feel ... enchanted by what I'm seeing. It's the only word that can really come close to describing my reaction. So much incredible, vivid color. And, I can't remember ever seeing this many trees all in one place. I just stop at the top of the hill and stare, and I feel my breath steal away from me.
My husband smiles at me and tells me, "Let's go." He starts down the hill. Remember, it's a hugely steep drop off. And, I'm really scared. Too scared to go down. I want to follow him. I want to go into that beautiful, fairy-tale forest, but I'm too scared of falling. So, I hesitate. He takes a few steps, and, when he realizes I'm not with him, he comes back, holding out his hand. I take his hand and step forward, feeling as if I'm stepping off the edge of the world. But, of course, it's OK. It is steep, but we don't have much trouble walking down the hill.
When we reach the bottom, I realize why the trees' colors were so dazzling. They are standing in water. Not water like in an ocean, but water like in a high mountain stream or lake. It's the cleanest, purest water I've ever seen. In spite of the wind moving the trees, the water is still and perfectly reflective. It looks like glass, or like a mirror, and it shows a perfect reflection of each tree, making the forest seem twice as dense as it really is. Even just looking at it, I can tell the water will be cool to the touch. It is, literally, the most perfect, most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I just feel awestruck and incredibly small in the face of this scene.
My husband smiles at me, and walks right into the water. It looked deep, but it only comes up to his waist. He motions for me to follow him, but I'm afraid. I don't know why, because I feel very peaceful being here. I feel like I belong here, and, yet, I hesitate. He begins to move away from me ...
And, that's when I woke up.
What does it mean, I wonder? I have no idea, really. I suppose I'll never know. But, I'm not sure I'll ever forget the feeling of seeing that ocean of trees for the first time. The impact of looking down at what I believed was water, only to realize it was a trick of the light, and I was looking at a never-ending forest of beautiful, jewel-toned trees. I don't know why I hesitated over entering the water. I'm not sure what I was afraid of, and, now, I wonder whether I would have followed my husband in. Would I have thrown caution to the wind and jumped in with both feet, laughing and eager for a new adventure? Or, would I have let my fear get the better of me, so that I remained, abandoned and alone, on the shoreline? I guess I'll never know, but I like to hope I would choose to jump in. Because, sometimes, life is like that. You just have to dive right in, even when you're afraid.
I was with my husband, and we were walking in the downtown area of some city. I'm not sure which city it was. It could have been DC, which is, basically, where we live. Or, it could have been Houston or San Antonio, both places we have, also, lived. Or, even Philadelphia -- not a former home of ours, but a place we just recently visited. This past week, in fact. Anyhow, it was, pretty much, your generic downtown, city-type scene -- lots of concrete ... tall buildings looming over us and shutting out the sun ... everything looking gray. We were walking down the middle of a street. I remember looking down and seeing double yellow lines painted on the pavement and thinking it was so strange there were no cars around. There weren't any people, either. No traffic sounds, none of that background "white noise" type of stuff that you get when you put a lot of people all together in one small place. Just ... silence. Except I could hear birds singing. I didn't see any birds, but I could hear their songs -- lilting and lyrical, rising above all the gray around us with a poignant beauty that almost made me want to cry.
I didn't know where we were going, but I just followed my husband. This isn't an unusual occurrence for me, really. He and I have been together for a long time -- 15 years, 7 of those as a married couple -- and I have this tendency toward getting lost. Let's just say I'm often geographically challenged and leave it at that. The oddity of it all is that, often, I'm very good at figuring out different subway and metro rail systems. I seem always to know exactly where we are going, where we need to get off, and in which direction we need to travel to reach our destination -- even in cities where I don't speak the language. I'm kind of like an idiot savant that way, I suppose. But, that's not relevant to this particular dream. Suffice to say, I have just grown accustomed to following along behind my husband when we are together. Yes, it doesn't say very much about me as an "independent, liberated" woman of the new millenium. But, it's our dynamic, and it works for us.
So, we walk ... and walk ... and walk. It seems like we walk forever in this gray concrete jungle. Without ever seeing another person. Without seeing any cars. Without seeing any signs of life at all. Just walking down the middle of this huge street, with the buildings looming over us, following the yellow painted lines off into the distance.
We come to this hill and climb. And, at the top ... everything changes.
It's like the entire world opens up beneath us. The hill on which we are standing drops straight down. I mean straight down -- like, if you looked over the edge, you would believe you were going to fall off the face of the earth. Yeah, that kind of scary-huge drop off. And, below us, spread out in a valley is just this incredible, bright, vivid burst of color. Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Brown ... undulating back and forth, back and forth, in waves. At first, my mind can't register the sight. I think it must be the ocean. We must have walked all the way to the ocean, and I'm looking down at it moving in waves, reflecting back the sunlight or something. But, then, my mind clears a bit, and I realize it's not water I'm looking at -- it's trees. Hundreds and thousands of trees, spreading out as far as my eyes can see, blowing in the wind, which is creating the wave-like effect. It's so much color and so bright, I almost can't process it after all the gray we just walked through. Even the hill on which we are standing -- right up until the very top, it's paved, with the yellow line in the middle. The street, from the city. But, as soon as the drop-off starts, the hill is green, covered in soft grass that, also, blows in the wind, creating waves of motion.
I feel ... enchanted by what I'm seeing. It's the only word that can really come close to describing my reaction. So much incredible, vivid color. And, I can't remember ever seeing this many trees all in one place. I just stop at the top of the hill and stare, and I feel my breath steal away from me.
My husband smiles at me and tells me, "Let's go." He starts down the hill. Remember, it's a hugely steep drop off. And, I'm really scared. Too scared to go down. I want to follow him. I want to go into that beautiful, fairy-tale forest, but I'm too scared of falling. So, I hesitate. He takes a few steps, and, when he realizes I'm not with him, he comes back, holding out his hand. I take his hand and step forward, feeling as if I'm stepping off the edge of the world. But, of course, it's OK. It is steep, but we don't have much trouble walking down the hill.
When we reach the bottom, I realize why the trees' colors were so dazzling. They are standing in water. Not water like in an ocean, but water like in a high mountain stream or lake. It's the cleanest, purest water I've ever seen. In spite of the wind moving the trees, the water is still and perfectly reflective. It looks like glass, or like a mirror, and it shows a perfect reflection of each tree, making the forest seem twice as dense as it really is. Even just looking at it, I can tell the water will be cool to the touch. It is, literally, the most perfect, most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I just feel awestruck and incredibly small in the face of this scene.
My husband smiles at me, and walks right into the water. It looked deep, but it only comes up to his waist. He motions for me to follow him, but I'm afraid. I don't know why, because I feel very peaceful being here. I feel like I belong here, and, yet, I hesitate. He begins to move away from me ...
And, that's when I woke up.
What does it mean, I wonder? I have no idea, really. I suppose I'll never know. But, I'm not sure I'll ever forget the feeling of seeing that ocean of trees for the first time. The impact of looking down at what I believed was water, only to realize it was a trick of the light, and I was looking at a never-ending forest of beautiful, jewel-toned trees. I don't know why I hesitated over entering the water. I'm not sure what I was afraid of, and, now, I wonder whether I would have followed my husband in. Would I have thrown caution to the wind and jumped in with both feet, laughing and eager for a new adventure? Or, would I have let my fear get the better of me, so that I remained, abandoned and alone, on the shoreline? I guess I'll never know, but I like to hope I would choose to jump in. Because, sometimes, life is like that. You just have to dive right in, even when you're afraid.
Re: These Dreams go on when I close my eyeeeees!
Date: 2006-11-13 06:37 pm (UTC)I'm lucky. I don't often have nightmares. Usually, my dreams are pretty OK, although they're not always as vivid as this one.
My hubby is a fast-walker, too. It can be hard to keep up with him, so I feel your pain there. *sigh*
I'm so glad you have someone with you in your dreams now. It does make the scary stuff a lot easier to live through, doesn't it? *hugs*