Thursday, February 03, 2005
Pure Fear
It is 5:55am and I have already been up for fifty minutes. I had a nightmare. I never remember what I dream about but I always seem to remember my nightmares.
My heart was thumping really heavily when I awoke. I died in this one. So did my dad. Well, I didn't actually see either of us die but the scenario and the "feelings" allow me to make an educated guess.
It's starting to become a bit vague in my mind but I can remember a little about the end: I was in Belfast. (The layout of the city and the surrounding buildings were strangely familiar but it certainly wasn't the Belfast that I know of.) It felt as though I had just finished work and I was waiting outside the office for dad when I got a phone call from my mum. I can't remember what she said other than the words, "it's bad." She sounded scared and was adamant that dad and I get home to Antrim (where I live) as soon as possible. For whatever reason, I never said anything. Another puzzling thing was that I didn't doubt what my mum was telling me. (I don't mean to imply that I usually doubt what my mum says; rather, because what she said was so extraordinary it was strange that I didn't need some sort of confirmation.)
It was at that point the wind started and the rain fell. Man, the wind was strong - the rain was almost horizontal. I ran towards where dad would be exiting.
I ran passed something weird here: a middle-aged lady dressed in a black business suit with white shirt was standing, arms folded, looking up at something behind me. I never looked to see what she was staring at but I think it was a clock because she kept saying, "I can only leave when it's nine... I always leave at nine." She just repeated those words over and over... never acknowledging me who was standing in front of her. I ran on towards dad's office.
He was waiting for me at the door when I got there. (This is strange in itself because dad is always working when I arrive at his office.) Without a word we headed towards the building where he parks his car. Now, dad parks his car in the basement of a building and, obviously, we cannot see into the basement from the street but there was something different here. We could, in fact, see into the basement (the laws of physics were put on hold)... and it was flooded to gound-level with water! It was at this point when dad first spoke: all he kept saying was, "I'm not going in there!"
Mum phoned again but I cannot remember if she phoned dad or me. I do remember the terrible feeling that consumed me at that point. A feeling of pure dread. Pure fear. The only words that can describe the feeling (but they certainly are not adequate) were voiced by my mum earlier in the dream: I had to get out of there.
The rain was coming down harder than ever and the wind was fiercer than I have ever experienced. Dad made a move and I ran about ten feet behind him. He was leading me to where he thought was a way out and safety. The next thing I know, I'm standing facing the sea with where I've come from behind me. To my left is country-side and to my right is a tunnel where a train track was immerging. Dad ran down the train track and into the tunnel and I followed.
We ran along the track for about 100 yards until in front of us the track looked to be broken: it was twisted and distorted. Dad slowed and then stopped and I did likewise. I didn't verbalise what I was thinking, nor did dad, but it seemed like we were feeling the same things. Firstly, we couldn't go on. Secondly, I would miss mum. Finally, we weren't getting out of there.
That was it. At that point I awoke. It was about 5:05am. My heart was pounding and my breathing was heavy. My room was dark and cold, and I'll admit that I was quite scared. I messaged Jenna, hoping desperately to waken her because she makes me feel so safe. (I know I would have felt bad if I had woken her, though.) She didn't reply. I didn't know what else to do so I switched on my light, reached for my notebook and came here to type this out.
For the record: I love my dad - he is the greatest. I have no idea why my mind personified the person who led me astray as my dad.
Does anyone believe in meaningful dreams anymore? I mean, God spoke to Pharoah through a nightmare. Although, Pharoah needed Joseph to interpret the nightmare. Once interpreted, Pharoah was able to take decisive action because he believed it would come true... and it did.
If this is God speaking to me through my nightmare, I need a Joseph.
God, help me.
My heart was thumping really heavily when I awoke. I died in this one. So did my dad. Well, I didn't actually see either of us die but the scenario and the "feelings" allow me to make an educated guess.
It's starting to become a bit vague in my mind but I can remember a little about the end: I was in Belfast. (The layout of the city and the surrounding buildings were strangely familiar but it certainly wasn't the Belfast that I know of.) It felt as though I had just finished work and I was waiting outside the office for dad when I got a phone call from my mum. I can't remember what she said other than the words, "it's bad." She sounded scared and was adamant that dad and I get home to Antrim (where I live) as soon as possible. For whatever reason, I never said anything. Another puzzling thing was that I didn't doubt what my mum was telling me. (I don't mean to imply that I usually doubt what my mum says; rather, because what she said was so extraordinary it was strange that I didn't need some sort of confirmation.)
It was at that point the wind started and the rain fell. Man, the wind was strong - the rain was almost horizontal. I ran towards where dad would be exiting.
I ran passed something weird here: a middle-aged lady dressed in a black business suit with white shirt was standing, arms folded, looking up at something behind me. I never looked to see what she was staring at but I think it was a clock because she kept saying, "I can only leave when it's nine... I always leave at nine." She just repeated those words over and over... never acknowledging me who was standing in front of her. I ran on towards dad's office.
He was waiting for me at the door when I got there. (This is strange in itself because dad is always working when I arrive at his office.) Without a word we headed towards the building where he parks his car. Now, dad parks his car in the basement of a building and, obviously, we cannot see into the basement from the street but there was something different here. We could, in fact, see into the basement (the laws of physics were put on hold)... and it was flooded to gound-level with water! It was at this point when dad first spoke: all he kept saying was, "I'm not going in there!"
Mum phoned again but I cannot remember if she phoned dad or me. I do remember the terrible feeling that consumed me at that point. A feeling of pure dread. Pure fear. The only words that can describe the feeling (but they certainly are not adequate) were voiced by my mum earlier in the dream: I had to get out of there.
The rain was coming down harder than ever and the wind was fiercer than I have ever experienced. Dad made a move and I ran about ten feet behind him. He was leading me to where he thought was a way out and safety. The next thing I know, I'm standing facing the sea with where I've come from behind me. To my left is country-side and to my right is a tunnel where a train track was immerging. Dad ran down the train track and into the tunnel and I followed.
We ran along the track for about 100 yards until in front of us the track looked to be broken: it was twisted and distorted. Dad slowed and then stopped and I did likewise. I didn't verbalise what I was thinking, nor did dad, but it seemed like we were feeling the same things. Firstly, we couldn't go on. Secondly, I would miss mum. Finally, we weren't getting out of there.
That was it. At that point I awoke. It was about 5:05am. My heart was pounding and my breathing was heavy. My room was dark and cold, and I'll admit that I was quite scared. I messaged Jenna, hoping desperately to waken her because she makes me feel so safe. (I know I would have felt bad if I had woken her, though.) She didn't reply. I didn't know what else to do so I switched on my light, reached for my notebook and came here to type this out.
For the record: I love my dad - he is the greatest. I have no idea why my mind personified the person who led me astray as my dad.
Does anyone believe in meaningful dreams anymore? I mean, God spoke to Pharoah through a nightmare. Although, Pharoah needed Joseph to interpret the nightmare. Once interpreted, Pharoah was able to take decisive action because he believed it would come true... and it did.
If this is God speaking to me through my nightmare, I need a Joseph.
God, help me.
