Last night I had a dream that I was Dorothy in “Return to Oz.” I was in the scene where all her friends were ornaments and she had to guess which ones were her friends. (If you haven’t seen this movie, you won’t understand). Except, the ornaments were my family members and my mom was already with me. I found a piece of china that was white with blue paint on it. It had a Chinese scene on it with Chinese letters. (I gave my father a piece of pottery for Christmas one year that was white with blue paint on it, it looked similar to this only in real life it had a horse on it and was much bigger.) Anyway, I saw this and I said “I know this one is my dad.” I started crying and I kept repeating to my mother that I knew it was him. Time was running out and I kept looking around the different ornaments.
You infiltrate my dreams, every night now. I always write down my nightmares, but usually won’t write down dreams that cause me extreme emotional pain. Mainly for the fear that further engraving them into my memory will induce a recurring dream. However, I must explain a part of my dream last night. But first, you must know that usually when I dream of suicide, the dream is over once I am dead. This is the first time in my life that the dream has continued past my death. Nevertheless, we were standing on the top of a ridge overlooking the ocean. It was undoubtedly the most beautiful place I’d ever been. I asked you a question which you neglected to answer, so I jumped off the edge. I fell, with my arms out and back to the ground. After I died, I became a ghost. I flew into the sky, but came right back to you. Even in death, I still come back to you.. as your ghost. I asked if you could hear me, and you said ‘yes.’
(I had an outsider’s perspective and wasn’t actually a part of this dream).
I was at James’s house (Name has been changed). But the house was actually about 40 stories high or so. There was a teacher who was in a white lab coat (like a doctor would wear). She was leading a little girl about the age of 7 up the stairs. They started out in a dark, damp, gray basement. They made their way up to the second to last floor. She explained that next building over was a museum of the bones of dead serial murders. This building was empty with the exception of the bones of the worst serial killer of all time. He had to be kept separate from the other serial killers because he was the most evil and most dangerous (she said this almost as if it were a prison rather that a burial site/museum). So, the second to last floor contained a whole in the ceiling with a pull down ladder (like most attics do). The teacher climbed up the ladder and the child followed. The bones were dark, black, and green. They were folded up on top of each other. The little girl all of the sudden fell from the top floor, down several flights. It appeared as though she had landed on her back and died from the impact. But once the body was examined closer and seen from a different angle, you could tell that she had indeed fallen from several stories, but instead of hitting the ground, she was suspended horizontally in the air by about 20 hooks. She was dead.
Dreams, in essence, are windows to the subconscious. Dreams are nothing more than the soul expressing the truth and emotion that the mind denies in waking life. Dreams are the stripped skin and the barren bones of the subconscious.