To Dream (c) Gigi Miner 2006

Confusion rules the moment. I vaguely hear screams. I find myself ducking, trying to avoid the constant gunfire. They are following me. They are terrified. Anyone can see that. I try to turn down one hallway, but it is a dead end. The walls of the building are half missing. I can see a courtyard. It is nighttime, probably a good thing given the ricochet that confirms another missed shot.

I turn us toward a different direction, more ducking to avoid the shots. I cannot be sure if we are actually the targets or just running through a hot zone. Regardless, we keep moving. I keep us moving. Flashes of light turn our attention skyward. The sound of explosions rings in my ears. The flash and noise are momentarily distracting. I lose track of where I am going. Soon, the gunfire is in pursuit. I start running, followed closely behind by those trusting me to rescue them. More gunfire and suddenly everything turns to black.

I sit up in bed, saying the words, “I couldn’t save them all.” In shock, I look around. The walls are all intact. There are no explosions or gunfire, except in my panting memory. Quickly, I take out my journal to record the dream. Each detail, each memory begins to fade as I scrawl the words with hurried anxiety. I hope I will be able to read what I have written again someday. As I reach the end of the dream and pen those waking words, “I couldn’t save them all”, I am suddenly hit with the sharp reality of why this dream has haunted me for most of my life. I seem to recall “holy shit” leaving my lips at that moment.

I am not a stranger to dreams. I have been deciphering them since childhood I started with friends and eventually moved on to my own and then even clients wanting to understand the sordid symbols that wandered through their sleep. When this realization came to me, I was in shock. How could I have been so blind for so long? It is always easier to see the path in someone else’s life. When confronted with our own, we tend to pull the hood down over our eyes and push forward, like someone walking in a strong, rainy wind

“I couldn’t save them all.” How many times have I tried to help people? How many times have I felt responsible for others? Too many times have I taken on the weight, to the point of anguishing over events that had absolutely nothing to do with me. Now, I was faced with my biggest recurring dream and the reason for its being. It was hard to admit that I had been living out this dream in my waking life. It was even harder to put down that self-imposed weight. Yet, that is what I did. I am not responsible for the rest of the world. I cannot save everyone. Once I had shifted that bundle to the ground, I indeed felt lighter. At the same time, I was sad. Were those in my dream merely ethereal helpers, sent to guide me to this newest truth, or were they past life people whom I had failed? That question has yet to be answered. Stealing from William Shakespeare, perhaps tonight I will sleep, perchance to dream and thus reveal some other hidden motivation that needs my attentions.