Dreams are so peculiar. I often wonder what makes us dream. Theologians say
dreams may be visions from God trying to lead us through life. Psychologists say
dreams are our innermost feelings breaking loose in our subconscious. Scientists
say it's merely nerves and matter clicking together while we are in REM sleep.
I had a dream that got on my nerves, unlocked my subconscious feelings, and gave
me visions of things that really matter!
The last two years have been a waking nightmare. While I was in the middle of living
a "normal" life, doing routine things like trying to make a living and raise my children,
life got in the way. Or at least death did. Within a period of twelve short months, my
mother lost her battle with cancer, my father succumbed to a heart attack and I went
through a bitter divorce. While all of these life changing events were taking place, my
daughter underwent major surgery and severe health problems and my son ended up
in jail. Tell me you've had nightmares worse than that.
It's been two years since Mother died, and they have been very hard years, but not
impossible. With good friends, a strong faith in God, and time, I've finally begun to
realize the value in the "true things" I have left in my life.
There have been many times my grief nearly overpowered me, and many days when
my only reason for getting out of bed was to escape the nightmares. Looking back,
the worst nightmare is now the funniest.
When you lose someone you love, it's so hard to find any humor. Your grief
overpowers every other emotion. Humor becomes an unknown entity. But I must tell
you, this isn't a permanent condition. Humor will eventually return.
I awoke this particular morning feeling like I had been running a marathon. My heart
pounded, and for a few moments I had to orient myself that I was indeed awake and
laying safely in my own bed. Then, as the nightmare sweat began to dry on my brow,
I began to laugh. A hearty, healthy laugh.
Mother had given me back my humor and blessed me with laughter once again. For
in my dream, she was very much alive and very upset with me. You see, she was
upset because I had given away her "things". No, not the important stuff, but the
useless things that she (in real life) referred to as "house clutter".
As part of this dream, I had gone through the house, kept the things that were
"special" in memory of her, sold the furniture and the estate items, and gave away the
"house clutter". One particular item was a cheap plaster statue that no one wanted. I
couldn't find anyone willing to take it. For awhile, I considered throwing it away for it
meant nothing to anyone anymore.
A lady (in the dream) came to the door and said it was just exactly what she had been
searching for and asked if she could pay me for it. It was so worthless. Just
something else to dust. I couldn't remember where it originated from or who had
given it to Mother. I finally gave it to this woman.
As the dream continued, Mother came home like nothing had ever happened. It was
as if she had never been sick, never the less died, and the main thing on her mind
was she wanted to know where all her "things" were. I cried with joy at seeing her
and told her we all thought she had died. I was so excited! She didn't understand.
She pretended to have no knowledge of the events that led to her death, or the grief I
had been going through, and said flatly, "Well I really want my things back." I tried to
explain to her where everything went, and she said she wasn't interested in all that.
She told me I must find her plaster statue and get it back. Of all the things that were
missing, that was the one thing that mattered the most to her.
"That statue?" I cried. "That worthless old plaster statue?"
The rest of the dream is too confusing to try to describe, but the nightmare was a true
nightmare. I was lost in my own confusion as I ran from person to person trying to
collect Mother's "things" but oddly, no one had kept them and they were lost forever.
Eventually, as the sun rose in my bedroom window, the truth dawned on me. Nothing
on this earth is everlasting. The statue she kept stuffed in a corner of the closet was
just as worthless as the priceless mementos in the drawer or the valuables in her
safety deposit box when it comes to eternity. None of them last forever.
You can save what you cherish and cherish what you save, but in the end, they will
eventually all turn to dust. You can't take them with you when you go, and all the
material things you hold precious in this life will lose all meaning once you are gone.
It's not the "things" that are precious. It's the memories you have of them that make
them so. These memories are of the people you love, the events you participated in
together, and the time you spent with each other. The "things" are just the souvenirs
from those memories.
Still laying on my bed, I thought again of that useless statue. I can't recall where it
came from originally. I only remember it being moved from one place to another,
seemingly having a lot of trouble finding just the right place. It ended up in her closet
because she said it was just "something else to dust". Or something else to turn to
She reminded me through this dream that the most important things in life are not
"things". That's when the laughter began. Only Mother would use a cheap plaster
statue to teach me a life lesson.
|Wake Me Up
I've Gone Crazy!
|A Christian Grief Ministry