Dreams impossible to ignore

Tales from the front pew

Any way you look at it, dreams are a big deal.

Martin Luther King Jr. delivered an unforgettable speech about having one, and Dorothy Gale traveled all the way to Oz in one.

The Bible tells us that Joseph got in a whole lot of trouble with his jealous brothers after recounting some he’d been having, and Sigmund Freud referred to them as “the royal road to the unconscious.”

The folks in my humble abode also have their share of dreams, some of which are quite interesting.

How do I know this, you might ask? Easy. They tell me.

My husband, Bob, in fact, has a tendency to wake me in the middle of the night to recount them, apparently assuming I’ll be as fascinated by them as he is.

Bob’s dreams are somewhat dichotomous in nature, half macho man and half terrified toddler.

On the macho/heroic side, he frequently dreams about engaging in some sort of military combat, thwarting bank robberies and leaping tall buildings in a single bound. I admit I was pretty impressed that time he fashioned our bed sheet into a cape while sound asleep.

On the terrified toddler side, there are usually really big bugs threatening to carry him off to parts unknown — giant spiders, wasps, bees and, as I recall, a ladybug with a particularly bad attitude.

I’m privy to these bad dreams for two reasons. One, he wakes me to describe them and, two, he occasionally acts them out on my person. At least I hope that explains why he was hitting me with his pillow and yelling, “Die! You hideous creature!”

My daughter, Val, on the other hand, has been having an entirely different sort of dream over the course of the past year.

I should note here that Val is a single woman, so it’s only natural that her dreams might be romantic in nature. There’s only one problem, the subject of those dreams.

Much to her chagrin, my beautiful daughter has been dreaming of our new president, Donald Trump. She finds this more than a little troubling, because on top of being a married man, she really doesn’t find him particularly attractive. (That’s her story and she’s sticking to it.)

Of course, I have my share of dreams, too.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve dreamed about being in high school and not being able to locate my classrooms. The worst part is the fact that I never discover where they are, but keep on walking down dark, empty hallways, missing important classes every day.

Freud would probably say I’m searching for some sort of meaning or fulfillment in life. Personally, I think it has more to do with the fact that I have the sense of direction of a potato and actually did get lost at least once a week.

Dreams range from the sublime to the ridiculous, but they’re impossible to ignore.

In the Bible we’re told that the time will come when God pours out His spirit and our sons and daughters will prophesy, and our old men will dream dreams.

Sounds dreamy.

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