Walking into the Realm of Those Passed

I had a dream last night. I don't think it was scary, per se, but something definitely didn't feel right. Even though the basic premise of the dream seemed to be serene.

Somewhere, deep inside, I knew that he was walking into the house of the dead, though they were alive, once more, in this creation of my mind.

For the second time in three weeks, my dreams seem to have killed a family member—one who still stands, thankfully. And perhaps it's just the perpetual anxiety roiling about in my head that has caused this now-repeated, unwelcome act. But it's hard to awaken and not wonder at more.

A few weeks ago, I had a dream that I now hardly remember. In fact, I had the regular dream experience of not remembering it at all upon waking. But at some point, that very next day, my girlfriend mentioned a person who we probably had not discussed in weeks and I was shot with the sudden memory of what I had experienced the night before.

She had not died within my dream, but she was already dead. It was just understood. It had happened some time ago and, it seemed, not everyone knew, so I had the lovely experience of being the bearer of bad news.

I now remember only vague bits and pieces.

There was a field of green grass.

Some vague image of a gun.

But otherwise, the dream had no narrative of note. Just a curious offing of a family member, that was followed by an unexpected mention of that same family member shortly thereafter. If it was meant to be a sign, it was a long-burning one, for nothing seems to have come of it, yet, and I hope that nothing will.

And then there's last night. Dream #2.

Different situation, different family member. No death at all.

But a trip to its house.

For in this dream, a family member who is still very much alive (I have verified multiple times since), was going to visit two other family members (oddly enough, from the other side of the family). Still, nothing too odd.

Except for the fact that they have both passed away in the past six years.

But there they were. And I saw them. Standing out front of a little cottage-house like you might see in a family movie. A single-level, white-walled home, with a small door, a step out front, grass and trees all around, with the jungle of flowers that screamed DISNEY (in live-action)!

They didn't move towards us (whoever 'us' was, for I was not alone, although I did not consciously acknowledge anyone else's presence around me), from whatever perch we might have stood upon—for they seemed to be below us, somehow. Just a little.

And they waved, smiled. All very warm and pleasant.

Except for the fact that this was not their house (they had lived in an apartment).

Except for the fact that, somewhere within my dream, I understood that they were not alive and, therefore, could not be there, though they were.

And my family member was approaching their house, I could feel, though I could not see him enter it.

There were at least two scenes in this dream, although they run together non-specifically now. And nothing else happened.

But when I awoke, things did not feel quite right.

I'm sure it all means nothing. Just dreams. Just pictures conjured up by a lazy and not-quite-tipsy mind that was allowed to wander in the night.

But I wonder, will always wonder, what it is that makes us dream of people we had not thought of in so long, that makes us see life in death and watch life make its weary trek towards that thereafter.

And as much as I want those family members who have gone to stay, I am unnerved by what their presence there suggests.

I want to return to finish the dream.

I only hope that that happens when I am asleep.