One of the most perplexing things about the human mind is the dream state. Sometimes we dream the sweetest dreams while other times it's the scariest nightmare. We then wake up trying to hold onto those dreams, perhaps with a hope of deciphering it, gaining some sort of meaning as to what it all means.
DREAMS
Last night, other rather, the other week by the time you all read this, I had three dreams, or rather two profound dreams and one matinee that has no significant meaning.
The Pie
This was the matinee. This dream is complete silliness and probably has no meaning -- other than I spend too much time thinking about work.
I was in a large room with several white cloth covered round tables. There weren't many chairs surrounding the tables, at first, but I recall that as I looked around people started popping into existence. The first familiar face was Robert, one of the chefs that works at the HGI. We talk a little every day that we work together, but I wouldn't call us "friends" per say.
So as I looked around food also started filling up the tables. One table in particular caught my eye as there was one rather large food item on it. It was a pie. And I'm not just talking like a large pie. No, this thing was probably two to three feet in diameter and at least a foot and a half tall at it's center. What made this pie even more unique was what kind of this this was. Ordinarily pies are a fruit or a custard, sometimes even a hodge-podge of ingredients like those in a mince-meat pie. This particular pie was potato, not sweet potato mind you, just regular old Idaho potatoes. It was baked, much like a potato casserole would be -- so there were layers upon layers of sliced potatoes. Topping it all off was baked cheese and crispy bacon strips -- sort of a Baked Potato Pie.
The Airport & My Father
This one makes me wonder what it signifies. Although I'm certain I know what it means; more on that later.
This one started out with me being in some kind of terminal. I'm assuming it was an airport. A rather small one at that, because there were only one concourse. But from the massive amount of people crowding the terminal one would have thought that they'd walked into Chicago's O'Hare, or LAX. How do I know there was only one concourse? I recall looking at a sign board; don't know what I was looking for, but yet I was looking at it. It was a trapezoid-shape, with one end nearly ending in a point.
Looking around I remember finally coming into contact with my dad. If you didn't know my father, here's a little background on him. Between 1999 and 2000 (I think) he had a heart attack. It's not like he was overweight, but I think his cholesterol was high. This attack ended up with him having to have a pace-maker. While these are amazing devices they only last on a batter for so long. And within the past month he had to go back under the knife and have this battery replaced. Both surgeries are no laughing matter and perhaps are what stirred me to think about him. Also, he is not a young man either. He is in his upper 70s, though you'd insist one the way he goes about his day that he was only in his late 50s or early 60s. He's slowed down some since the first surgery, but the fact remains he isn't getting any younger, and that saddens me.
So there we were together, in some unknown airport, and I recall not wanting to go. Whether one or both of us were going somewhere or leaving I don't know. But I remember pushing my way through the masses trying to prevent us from going. Perhaps since my dad is getting older maybe I was trying to prevent him from dying? With the airport signifying Purgatory, the place between Heaven and Hell. Though I highly doubt my dad would go to Hell, that would explain the small airport.
Although if it wasn't an airport, it could have also been a train station. I recall a dream from a couple months ago where I was at a train station. Once again the platforms were crowded, and the trains were going to unknown destinations.
Some of you may know that I fear death. I fear what comes after this life. And perhaps these dreams are my subconscious' way of cooping with the idea.
Face of a child
Now I've heard that pregnant mothers have had dreams where they see the face of their unborn child. Perhaps having to do with the nine month symbiotic connection they share. But for a father to see his unborn child's face, is unheard of, right? But yet I had a dream about seeing my unborn son born.
I don't know where we were, but I know it was shortly after the birth because my son was looking a little red. He was laying down on some flat surface and I recall looking upon his face. Whether he was clothed or not I don't remember, but yet I knew he was my son.
"Could have been Carleigh," you might be saying. "You could be recalling your daughter's birth." And to that I say "nay." It wasn't Carleigh's birth as I recall having her under my right arm. Was I lifting her up? Was I coddling her in my arm like a new born? I don't know. But I know she was there. However, Courtney wasn't there. Which is odd, because she had just given birth to our son. Strange.
Conclusion
I don't believe these dreams to be connected in any way. But it's odd that I would have both a "life" and "death" dream on the same night.
Thoughts?
