For years I had a dream. 

It was a strange one, and started when I was about six years old.  It came to me often, the same dream, all through my childhood. 

I was lying on the ground, and a large black horse, the biggest one I’d ever seen was trampling me.

I never had a horse, never rode a horse until I was 15 or so, and was never around horses at all as a child.

So, I didn’t know where it came from.

But once or twice a week I’d wake up sweating and terrified after dreaming that I was being trampled to death.

I was 26 when I figured it out. 

Back when I was seven year old, I went to Chris Schaffer’s birthday party on New Year’s Eve, 1959. His mother took seven or eight boys to the Bi Jo Theater in Germantown to see “Darby O’Gill and The Little People”.

 

There is a scene in the movie where someone, I don’t remember who, was trampled by a large black horse.

That’s where it came from.

I saw the movie again with my wife and my nephews, Charles and Andy in 1978. 

I often wonder if t the nephews had the dream too.

After I saw it the second time, it went away.

I dream in color, when I dream.  And my dreams are very vivid.

And strange.

After the second viewing, my dreams changed. 

They were varied, and less violent.  Some were odd.

When I was seeing a therapist for depression after the first heart attack, he was very interested in my dreams.  He made me write them down.  As soon as I awoke, I’d scribble stuff down from the dreams that I remembered and we’d discuss them.  I have no idea what he found out from them, because he was a typical, therapist.  There was a lot of “um hum” and “yes” and “I see” when I’d describe the dreams to him.  I’m sure I’m in the AMA Journal, his thesis, or Psycho Monthly.

I really wanted to make stuff UP, but I didn’t.  I was a good boy.

Last year when I was diagnosed with Sleep Apnea, I got a CPAC, or in my case a Respironics.

All my dreams stopped.

Until last week.

Now, they’re back.

Stranger than ever.

They are bigger and bolder too, and back in living color.

Last night, one of the Administrators at school, Faye, was in my dream.

Only she was black, and had blonde hair.

She’s not, and doesn’t.

It was really odd.

After a brief conversation with Faye in the dream, which I don’t remember, I went to class.

I didn’t walk, I didn’t have too.  I was flying.

Barely off the ground, but flying nonetheless.

I wish I could fly.

It would make life easier.

You know, floating from class to class, just about six inches off the ground, getting there on time, moving around the crowd with no problem.

It would be easier.

Faster.

Better.

But, it’s a dream.

So, the dreams are back, and I’m glad.

I missed them.  They seem to validate me, and while they were gone, life was a little dull.

Who knows, maybe I’ll find out something new about myself.

Or maybe I’ll figure out some phobia, or why I’m a creature of habit, or why I have to have all my socks going the same way in the drawer or all my blue shirts together, and the striped ones, and the yellow ones.

Who knows?

Shakespeare said, “To sleep, perchance to dream”.

I kinda look forward to it.