Very occasionally – it seems to me, most probably when I’m going through some trauma or when I’m seriously self-examining myself – I’ll have some dream which is so ridiculously meaningful that I’m almost embarrassed at the fact that its elements so obviously have labels attached; even if the labels aren’t always what I might think.
Years back, when I was stuck in a bad emotional feedback loop, I had this. Sorry for the length!
I was walking along a lane in twilight looking for some sort of path. I was just walking under an old stone bridge, when I saw a rabbit disappear down a hole: and I knew instantly that I had to follow it underground. I looked: the hole was almost filled with a giant spider, scuttling around inside it. I’m an arachnophobe: I couldn’t go down there with a giant spider inside it. I suddenly realised that I had a spider repellant in my backpack: I dropped it down the hole, the spider instantly disappeared, and I jumped down.
It was very dark, and I walked until – to my relief – I came to a streetlight, where I waited, unsure where I was supposed to go next. In the very dim light, I suddenly glimpsed something far away, running towards me. I was briefly very frightened [quite apart from the giant spider, which I hadn’t forgotten, as a very small child I’d had a nightmare about someone chasing me under streetlights], but waited until it ran to me under my streetlight; where I saw it was a great black dog, and I knew straight away that it was friendly. It spoke.
“Hello! I’m your companion and guide.”
“What’s your name?”
“Marek.”
“That’s nearly my name.”
“I know – but the E stands for Energy! Come!”
We ran together to a great river, and I knew I needed to cross it. There was a great iron bridge, but it was sunken, and the mechanism to raise it was rusted.
“I can’t cross.”
“There is a lever underwater, which you will be able to work.”
I trusted him, went into the river and swam underwater. I could dimly see some way away on the riverbed, the glowing treasure under the water: I was glad it was there, though I wouldn’t get to it on this trip; I knew it was safe until another time. Instead I found the machinery which raised the bridge, and with great effort I moved the rusted lever which set it in motion.
Back on the riverbank, Marek was waiting. The bridge was up.
“You may cross.”
“Come with me.”
“I’ll always be with you!”
At that I was very happy: and I awoke.
. My personality is generally quite different from what I’m like normally; often agitated or even aggressive – not abusive or anything, just the kind of attitude you might have if the room was on fire. My wife used to call me Jekyll and Hyde, so I’d have to wake up in the morning and ask whether I had done anything to apologise for last night.
