House dream, 9/20/15, 11:30 pm
Night before last (September 20), I woke up around 11:38pm with a dream about some people in our neighborhood trying to break into our house and steal from us. Our house was not like our current house, but more like a farm house in the middle of a city or busy suburban neighborhood. It felt very visible and unsafe. The men trying to get in were light-skinned blacks or Hispanics. I met them at the door. They had axes and hammers. I tried to explain to them that our family is poor, I have five kids, there is nothing of value to steal.
The imagery changed in the dream, and then my mother and Keith met me at the house. They were quiet but behaving in a threatening manner, demanding money. I was arguing that we didn’t have money to give them, but they acted like they were holding our house hostage and wouldn’t leave until we gave them something. I shouted at them, “Thief! Thief!” But then I thought of Jesus’ command to give to those who ask. I went to the kichen table. There was a shoebox on it with cash inside. I took a hundred dollar bill out of it and gave it to them. I was crying the whole time and whimpering about how “things could never be the same” in our relationship with them. I definitely felt like they were taking advantage of me, of my household. Jessica and I were driving somewhere afterwards — she was driving and I remember stopping at a toll booth but nothing else — and she was very upset, wondering how were were going to pay our bills.
Gathering dream, 9/22/15, 3:30 am
This morning early hours I had another dream about a Hispanic looking man who was trying to kill members of my family. He was very violent and had hurt me many times before during a long historic struggle. In the dream he tried to smother my sister Teresa with a pillow while she slept. She screamed and tried to fight him off. I was also aware that Winston or Ryan was in danger of being killed by him.
I picked him up and threw him down some stairs. I dragged him outside and tossed him in the yard. He was stunned and rolling in the grass, slowly. I went to the kitchen and found a large butcher knife. When I got back to where he was, he had turned into a young woman, also Asian or Hispanic looking. Jessica was in the yard now with me and she was behind the antagonist, trying to tie her with a small rope. People were arriving at our house (which was also near water, like in real life) for some kind of get-together or party. They were driving up and glanced at what we were doing, but basically did not see or just ignored us. I suddenly just took both of the evil girl’s wrists and cut them deeply with the knife. The strange woman fell to the ground, bleeding out. I walked away to talk to some of the arriving guests, glancing back once in a while to see the woman dying in a bathtub in the middle of the yard, as if she had committed suicide. After waking, I had the song “Tomorrow” by the Cranberries playing in my subconscious.
I never realized how the lyrics of that song, unsophisticated as they are, could be applied to many relationships, including the one I have with God.
I think both of these dreams have a spiritual theme of my wanting to move beyond the afflictions of the past, and familial sins, to enter the purpose of God for fellowship with the saints. The pastor said something in church Sunday, “You don’t have to give what you DON’T have, give what you have.” I’m not sure what it means that the antagonists in these dreams looked foreign. The timing of the dreams coincides with a letter I wrote to a young man in Delmarva, who is struggling. In the letter I explored some of the old woundings I had received. Perhaps that explains the content of these dreams as well.