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Dreams
As a young boy …
I dreamed I was in a forest. It was one of those gloomy dreams, maybe even black and white. It was night and we sat in front of a large fire. I was an Old English dwarf. Everyone was laughing at my jokes.
As a young boy …
I dreamed I walked with Jesus. We walked a dusty road. He talked; I listened. His voice was the sound of clear running stream water on a brisk winter day. It resonates in my mind to this day. Whenever I remember the dream, I feel the peace, love, tranquility and authority within His voice.
As an adult …
I dreamed I was at a California motel. There was a deafening roar. I stepped outside and looked to the north. A towering wall of water sped toward me. There was no time to run. Nowhere to go. No protection. Just wait for the water to crush me. Just wait. Then I wake up and wonder: ‘In California, can the tidal wave come from the north?’ Is that possible?
As an adult …
I dreamed I was a bird. I soared with abandon. My energy was boundless. I rode atop the wind. I was free.
Recently …
I dreamed I caught a catfish. I loved that fish. I was proud of that fish. He was about 18 inches. I took him home. At home I had five fish. I held another fish in my hand. He was a 10-inch catfish. His body was solid, muscular. My fish were beautiful. One was a sunfish. Then I noticed the fish in my hand wasn’t breathing. Then I noticed that none of the fish were breathing. I had no water. I could not save them.
Now …
Who can answer the riddles of my dreams? What are these mysteries embedded deep within my psyche? The answers come only in the embrace of dreams. I especially welcome the dreams that come in the ebbing darkness of the morning, for mostly in the morning, my stories are born. Late at night my dreams are elusive, but I feel their imprints on my memory.
They say we must dream or die. I believe them. Better to die than to never dream again.
-- David Madrid--
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