A cry way off into the distance, as I run toward the sound, and its someone unfamiliar to me,
but it pierces my soul, the errie sadness of hopelessness shakes me to the core…I’m dreaming again.
For many years maybe even as long as I have written poetry, my dreams tell a story all by themselves.
I even have visions wide awake putting me in a trance like state inside my everyday life, that I can’t stop, taking me out of my demographic, aligning my thoughts to a different atmosphere,
where if I’m called out by anyone, this world fades completely, until the other dimension releases my mind, sometimes abruptly.
I’ve always been a spiritual being,
as well as spiritually gifted.
By age 20, I began calling myself the Angel of Death,
I was actually afraid to dream, began keeping a journal to tell the stories that wouldn’t remanifest themselves in they’re entirety once awaken.
So as a way of jarring my memory’s stubborn, betrayal of lost information, I wrote half asleep in my dream journal for years, of vivid colors, sizes of buildings, sexual liaisons, places, faces, amount of people around, how bright the sunshined, as well as Death.
One day I awoke out of sleep,
a ball of sweat, screaming in agony from hot bullets I felt pierce my body in my sleep, in my throat, chest and my abdomen area, it was 1996.
I was newly married, literally scaring my new husband to death, waking like this, with a short but impacting story, as he comforted and held me close, attentively listening to what would become a normalcy in our union.
I remember going to work that day and carrying on my daily routine..when he called on my lunchbreak, I answered explaining that this morning’s dream was not uncommon, but part of my history’s make up,
as I heard sadness ring out between my speech to him, my husband was crying, I became speechless, this strong minded man, who saw death first hand many times from his past neighborhood, my Superman, unfamiliar with this pain in his voice, I was puzzled, “what’s wrong Baby”?
He cleared his throat and began “you know Carlos, my friend that was over yesterday?”
Who was playing Super Nintendo with me and stayed for dinner”? “Yes” I said.
“He was killed this morning”, “shot in his chest, neck and stomach close range”.
My heart leapt right from my chest. Although this brought our relationship into an air of mystery, of unexplained closeness that would long after this situation, bind us .
This was only the beginning of my dream turned nightmare turnstile.
A rolodex of premeditated script that took me into a kamikaze dimension that warned of other’s demise, and foretold many aspects of my own future endeavors, as well.
I still have a hard time deciphering a dream that has been with me for many years, where my tire blows out on the side of this empty rural road, and I walk up this steep hill to the only house off this road, a huge farm-like mansion, but once inside, there’s this long table of what was to be a gigantic feast, that had come alive, its putrid appearance shows the carcasses as nesting maggot’s came out to greet you, but otherwise the house was completely empty, like the attendees left or had been swept off in a hurry.
In the dream, I tour the house, but then awake unsatisfied with the findings.
Yet, once back into this dream, I keep finding different rooms, like the house grows each time I visit, but overall ….nothing. Not yet anyway.
In one of my visions back in the early 2000’s, I was directed to do research of what I thought was a visioned gesture to make a non-profit organization for women and children who had been sexually abused like myself, I created an entire rough draft of activities to do, awards and certificates, crafts, and fund raising techniques, to pay for the need of counselling and counselor’s to help out in this, considering it wasn’t a life long dream of mine but a full vision unfolding, as well as a name,
this was an eerie warning of what was to come in itself, but at the time I wrote out exactly what my vision showed me, Innocence Sustained of Incest and rape Survivors the acronym ISIS, which I was directed to write, now what do you think of that?
Knowing now about the name, is now a scary look back on, an unreasonable vision, as I no longer wished after finding out the nature of this terrorist group’s name years later, to have part in speaking on it.
I didn’t wish to keep a journal any longer after that particular vision came to the forefront,
but who was I supposed to talk to regarding these small glimpses into the future?
These life changing events that secretly tormented my head?
The dreams that sometimes turned nightmarish, some goals, even my daughter was a dream.
I dreamt of 5 family members who all died within no more than 2yrs apart, actually attended the other members funeral’s, only to be sent “home” themselves , the same month or day, of the numbers I dreamt or by their faces in the crowd inside my sleep.
I also began seeing small signs, like them kissing or hugging me out of nowhere in real life, before their journey’s “home”.
I had friends that would say, beg me “don’t dream about me, please”!
I still have these dreams, but it will be something that plays out like a movie now to me,
12/28/2016 I awoke telling my husband again,
I dreamt I was on a block, not myself, but as a man, I could see the entire block’s row of houses and an abandoned house nearby, as everyone was celebrating with music, drinking and laughter, children were awake past their bedtimes, fireworks began filling the mild December air, and then bullets began to hit porches, ricocheting off brick, and I grabbed what I thought of as my child, running inside this grey brick house.
Looking down at my clothing as they were stained of old brown blood, wondering was I or the child hit, but I (this man) collapsed, dropping the child and it went to another scene, like a movie, the 2nd feature, was of a car accident with fire so huge I felt the heat singe my eyebrows and scorch my skin, as I was trapped inside this burning car, as I awakened and drank cups of water.
4 days later watching the News I saw the same block of houses in my dream, as a man and his son were killed ringing in the New Year and were both shot to death outside their home, celebrating the New Year that they lived only minutes into 2017, running inside to try and save their own lives, but died inside a Father and Son, my skin crawled as my husband looked my way and said to me, again “there’s your dream”.
I felt guilt, but how can I feel responsible and I didn’t even know them? On a different side of town from where we live.
And if that wasn’t enough,
Jan 4, 2017 an accident transpired on I-75 in Detroit, MI on the News, a breaking story of a woman mistakely driving down the freeway possibly lost, driving the wrong way, coming from the Casino, Downtown, as her car was hit by oncoming traffic causing a huge inferno on the freeway that claimed 3 lives, the fire could be seen miles away, and the other 2 passengers hospitalized, said to not have a chance of making it.
I was devastated to hear this story as tears streamed down my face as I saw yet another nightmare come alive.
What would you do with these forms of nightmarish phophecies?
Would you tell anyone, running the risk of it not happening as quick, or be looked as some crazy raving lunatic?
I even wake sometimes before the end, but it doesn’t matter they complete themselves playing out in horrifically challenging ways.
What I’ve decided in not being able to change these dreams or who I am.
I have to go back into my spiritually and understand, the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away, and I am just rewarded with a gift to alleviate what pain comes from those I know and love.
but guess what I had a dream last night…