Dream Entry: Art of Dreams

“To me dreams are a part of nature, which harbors no intention to deceive, but expresses something as best it can, just as a plant grows or an animal seeks its food as best it can. These forms of life, too, have no wish to deceive our eyes, but we may deceive ourselves because our eyes are shortsighted. Or we hear amiss because our ears are rather deaf – but it is not our ears that wish to deceive us.” C.G. Jung dreams memories reflections 


I’ve been dreaming of death this past week. It is not the first time, in fact it has been happening the past few weeks, starting with my brother Ryan: In the first dream he was hit on the back of the head with a crowbar by gang members. August, something, maybe 15th, some where around the middle of August, was when I had this dream.

This dream took place at night, at the old house on Citrus Loop. There were many people in the dream, my brothers Ryan and Dylan, some of Dylan’s old neighborhood friends, and my Father and Mother. It was a “get together” of sorts. We were outside, in the front yard. 2 guys, obviously gang members or not good people, drove up in a white car (maybe an old white Honda), drove up into the drive way in fact, and asked us a question, maybe a direction, and my father was the one who answered. He answered in a “strong” tone that may have appeared rude, and waved the members off. After he waved them off her turned to the crowd and mumbled something about Mexicans, as a joke though, nothing to sound insulting, but the 2 men didn’t drive away, and the passenger side had his window down. They did not leave the driveway the entire night. Everyone went on as if they weren’t their, but all wouldn’t go close to the driveway or car. My brothers and father said just to ignore them, they’ll leave.

Later that night, as the Get together was coming to a close and all were leaving, my brother went to his truck to get something. My sis and I were in our room. Oh, we were younger for some reason, it appeared as if my sis and I were 13 and 14, around their, my brothers were younger too. My sis and I left our room after we heard a commotion in the living room, my mother in hysterics, my Dad frantic but calming voice. My dad was the one that came in the room and told my sis and I that our brother Ryan was attacked/hit in the back of the head by the gang member. My sis began to cry, I became angry and immediate got up to rush into the living room. Our father, in his matter of fact tone, tried to calm me. I was the first to get beside my brother. I knelt down, he was laying on the living room floor of our old house, all the lights in the house appeared to be on. My father was the one calm and rational, while my mother, who stayed back, and sister, were crying.

I knelt down beside my brother Ryan, and touched his skin. He tried to speak but the words came out mumbled, and he had a blank look on his face, as if there was some brain damage. When I touched him he felt cold, and sweat was on his skin, but he felt an eerie cold. I knew, at that moment, if he survived, he wouldn’t be the same Ryan. He’d be disabled, and wouldn’t be the strong supporter, the rock so to speak, of the family any longer. At this realization I woke up, scared, and almost not believing it to be a dream. In fact, I tried to wake myself up in the dream, when the gang members wouldn’t leave the drive way, by pinching my arm. My sister Amanda was beside me and told me “this isn’t a dream, you cant just wake up”. That frightened me even in the dream, but I remained asleep. I felt a deep relief when I finally did wake up and realize it was just a dream, but my heart was pounding. I never had a dream of a family member becoming hurt like that.

A week later, or around a week, I had another dream about my brother Ryan being in danger.

My sister and nephew James, mother, brother Dylan and Ryan, and myself were having a lunch at a restaurant, maybe it was burgers and beer. We were talking and laughing casually together. Sometime during the conversation, I don’t know if it was before or after we ate, some guy who sat in the booth behind us started calling out harassing marks to passerby’s, and eventually directed them to my brother Ryan. The guy had a loud, dangerous tone to his voice, a voice that showed the man isn’t good. My brother Ryan sat in silence, with a calm expression on his face, but his eyes showed that he didn’t like what the man was saying. I stood up in anger, to talk to the guy, but as I stood up and looked over at the man in the booth, I noticed he was holding a gun. The man I saw clearly, he was probably my age. In fact, he looked like someone I went to school with, who was quiet and strange in class, but no one bothered. His eyes were dark, fully of hate, and no sense of good was on him. When I saw the gun my anger left, and fear came in. I told my family “its time to go, we have to go” and by this time many in the restaurant were rushing to the door. As my family stood up and started heading to the door, all were in front of me, as if they were a head of me I could protect them. All were leaving, except my brother. I looked back and noticed the man has the gun to the back of my brother’s head. My brother Ryan stood still, motionless, with that same calm expression and troubled look in his eyes. I woke up at this time.

For a couple weeks I didn’t have such dreams. Maybe it was my anxious state, I don’t know. But after my brothers’ barbeque for his birthday, on Saturday 9/6/14, the dreams began again, as if a transition suddenly has happened for me.

12, 13, 14 dreams

One thought on “Dream Entry: Art of Dreams

  1. Pingback: Year 6 | Inside A Soul

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