I had a dream this morning that at once was unsettling and comforting at the same time. Someone I hadn't seen in a long time came back into my life. The relationship tried to develop into one that no one could understand. His arms strong around me gave me the comfort, yet he understood more than I that I couldn't give in to the feelings.
I have been stressed and I'm sure the dream was an outreach of that. I had just read in Psalm 57 and 58 before drifting off to sleep where God is my comfort. I do want to look only to Him.
I'm not sure if I want to publish this. This is where fiction could come in and help. Protect the innocent and all that. A fantasy life not of my own making but expanded in my waking mind. Sometimes these forays help me.
Do dreams own us or do we own them? Notice how we wake ourselves before we are killed or hit the ground when we are falling. I'm not alone in wondering about dreams. I know I have addressed this before. Grandma put stock in dreams with her dream interpretation book on her bedside stand.
In my case does the comfort come from God or a vivid imagination? Part of the dream was wondering around East Liverpool, Ohio on foot climbing from the valley of the Ohio River through those old brick streets at night. Dreams gather all kinds of thoughts and tid bits from the day weaving them together in a memorable fashion. I don't think this dream meant anything, although David and I talked about East Liverpool with meeting my writer's support group there. I just happened to remember the dream with a comforting feeling. I wished the man had been my husband, but I dreamed of David earlier. My overworked (worried) mind needs rest.
I guess I'll publish this. Any thoughts on your dreams?
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