I Dream of Genie. Or Do I?

The next dream I can recall (if I’m to keep with the timeline of my life) would be what I’d consider to be my first psychic attack. I was probably eight or so years old. In all honesty though, I just remember being really young when I had this dream, so the given age might not be quite accurate. Regardless, this was a strange dream to have. Every time I recollect this dream to someone, they give me a look as though I’m a crazy person and need psychiatric care.

In the dream, I’m the same age as I am in waking life. I’m inside what looks like would be the inside of a genie’s bottle/lamp. The walls are round and padded with red cushioning and drapes surrounded by large red cushions to sit on. Something like this cushion here:

(Photo credit to Fulya Karahan Dursun)

The ceiling was low with a stained glass, round window in the center (if it were a genie bottle, this would presumably lead to the neck of the bottle). There was a red glow about the whole room. It was comfortable and warm. I was sitting with my legs crossed on one of the oversized persian cushions, holding a white, plastic clothes hanger in my hands. Who on earth knows WHY I was holding a plastic clothes hanger?! I dont! And yes, I do mean one of these:

(Photo credit: www.sears.com)

Nevertheless, what makes me think that this dream was my first psychic attack, is that as I was holding the clothes hanger, I accidentally snapped it in half. As I snapped it in half, there was an overwhelming sense that I had done something terribly wrong. THEN came the unbearable ringing in my ears and a tingling sensation throughout my whole body. A sense of impending doom was surrounding me and it felt as though something inherently evil was bearing down on me attempting to harm me.  Then I awoke.

I would have dreams like this a lot as a child. It would be utterly normal and in an instant would turn into an overwhelming sense of evil surrounding me. There would always be the ringing and always be the tingling from head to toe. I didn’t really know what was happening. What I DID know, was that my mother taught me how to defend myself in my mind. As I grew up in a Christian home, I was taught to say the name of Jesus Christ, in my dream. It worked. Every time I was dreaming and felt the impending evil, I would use this defense. Suffice it to say, those dreams stopped…until recently. (Don’t worry, I’ll explain in another post later on.)

What I also find interesting is that because of these particular dreams, I later developed a fear of sleeping a certain way. I HAD to have my Tweety pillow (don’t judge) facing a particular side, while laying on my right side, facing away from my window, with the door closed and a nightlight. Sure I was a child and these things aren’t too abnormal for a growing child. What is abnormal is that I’ve started doing this again…as a 23 year old…who has finished college, gotten a job, and is engaged. But I’m getting off track. If I didn’t  follow these particular rituals, I would have these psychic attack dreams.  Let’s just say, this wasn’t the last I dreamed of them.

Big Bad Wolf.

As I grew up I had recurring dreams. One main dream really stuck out. The other dreams that haunted me repeatedly had variations and I’ll get to those in future posts, but right now I’ll tell you about the one dream that utterly terrified me as a child. When I say child, I mean I was between the ages of five and twelve. Here it is:

I’m standing in the hallway of a rickety, broken, worn shack. One of those shacks where you can see through the boards of the walls, floors, ceiling, doors….you get the picture. It was all wood, two floors, with a decent amount of rooms and no furnishings – just bare. It was obviously lived in a long time ago, but no person inhabited it any longer. The hallway led to a living room on the left, a staircase leading upstairs on the right, and a kitchen at the other end. Now, according to my dream, my cousin Emily (who’s two years younger than myself) and I were staying in this beaten down abode. Only heaven knows why (I certainly don’t). Here’s the thing though – we were TERRIFIED to go into or even walk past the living room. The living room had a tall stone fireplace. It was also just as worn as the shack, with pieces of stone missing, ashes filling the surrounding area, and a darkness about it that seemed unnatural. If we entered the room or so much as went near it, a white hot fire would spark and begin to blaze on its own. As the fire grew, a wolf, standing on its hind legs (similar to a werewolf, I’d suppose) would climb out of the hearth, growling and gnashing its strikingly sharp canines.  (Something like the below picture – credit to Trower – http://tankman2008.newgrounds.com/)

The wolf would proceed to chase us through the shack and out into what was complete, desolate, barren desert land. The chase continued around the house in circles (much like what you’d see in a Road Runner & Wile E. Coyote cartoon). The next thing I know, my cousin and the wolf have disappeared altogether and I’m left standing in this desert next to the abandoned shack. I felt alone and confused. I then re-entered the house of decaying boards only to wake up.

This dream played over and over a number of times when I was younger. Maybe I was watching too many cartoons, or maybe it really had some significance. Either way, I always woke up terrified.

When in Spain.

The very first dream I can recall is from when I was one and a half years old. I was with my family in Spain. We traveled a lot the first couple of years of my life, so it’s not too strange that I was there. What IS strange, is that I remember a dream I had there. This is the furthest back I can remember of ever having a dream. So here it is:

I was standing in our hotel room next to the end of the bed. On the left side of me was the door into the room. In front of me was the bed. On the far left was the doorway to the attached bathroom. On my far right was a doorway to the balcony outside the hotel room. There was a bright green light being emitted from the bathroom. It was very quiet and very dark. I was frightened by the green ambiance. I walked across the room, passing the bed, and went outside onto the balcony. The balcony was painted white with wrought iron railing. The outside light was on. A typical outdoor lamp. And on the railing of the balcony was sitting a black cat. The cat was very serene. It just stared at me. It was calming and soothing to see the cat. I didn’t know why it was there or the reason I was drawn to it. Everything just was. I knew there was  purpose. Some meaning that was bigger than I could understand. And then I woke up.

Pretty intense dream for an almost-two year old, right? At least I think so.

To Start…

I have always had crazy dreams growing up. This is where I’m going to share them. Please feel free to comment or give me your interpretations on them. They get pretty insane!