The other evening, more truthfully morning, I had one of those bone chilling nightmares that if they were not so horrifying ,would be exhilarating . I generally have vivid dreams, and I maintain a lackadaisical dream journal. But this dream,occurring in the wee hours of Monday morning , shook me awake with a scream;shaking, I swiftly found a piece of paper to record the awful experience.
Upon awaking the next morning I was determined to record the wretched scene as a watercolor ( a medium that seems well suited to dreamscapes, just ask Blake).
The note may seem incoherent but it is what guided me through the painting:
A woman has been killing little boys in their sleep, attempts had been made on my own life as well.
It became apparent the old crone ( a recurrent character) was the Mother and she was killing the boys.
I went to bed reciting “Father watch after me” over and over.
She entered nonetheless and I kept repeating over and over but I was silenced.
Vultures had landed all over my bed.
She was some Egyptian goddess of death, God was the father.
My prayers were for naught. My belief that the Lord would watch over me was for naught.
I woke with a scream that scared the dogs.
In my notes the vultures were specifically identified as Egyptian in style, I vividly remember their shadowy forms.
The terror of being unable to speak or prayer was the most horrible aspect of the dream.
It is when I have dreams like this that I wish the beloved was Jungian and not Klienian.
With this cheery post I depart.
Wishing all vivid dreams.