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dreams of ships and my mortality


I had an extremely crazy dream last night. I was traveling in England, it seemed, by myself. This is not something I would normally do, but I guess anything goes in your dreams. So I was in a ticket station, buying a ticket for a ship ride to Paris. I wasn't sure if I really wanted to go or not, what with the Parisian's disdain of Americans, but before I knew it I had a ticket in hand.

I had to walk up a very narrow metal spiral staircase, the width of which was just wide enough for one person. It did have handrails on both sides (something rare for me in dreams -- usually there are no handrails whatsoever) so that was refreshing. When I was about three-quarters of the way up the staircase I decided I couldn't handle going to Paris alone.

I remember gingerly stepping backwards down the staircase, apologizing to the people behind me, but adamant that I was not going to Paris. Somehow, even though I got off the staircase, I was still on the ship heading to Paris. I was resigned to the fact that I was on the ship after all.

I remember talking to some guy on the ship who I had just met. He was English, I think, and we were making small talk. We were on the upper deck where we could see the railing of the ship and the sea all around us. I had some premonition that something bad was going to happen.

Then we saw a bomb go off on the side of the deck above us, kind of where the lifeboats hang waiting for use. It was like slow motion when the bomb went off. Then both of us (me and the guy I just met) were actually hurled through the air toward the sea. It felt like what I would imagine being sucked into a tornado would feel like, just weightless, out of control and at the mercy of the elements.

At that moment, as I was being thrown through the air, I knew I was going to die a horrific death. This is when I started to recite the "Hail Mary" in its entirety over and over again. (Upon waking and reviewing the dream I suppose my subconscious chose that prayer for its last line: "Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death.")

I was really afraid of the pain I figured would be involved with the actual dying part. I'm not so concerned with "life" after death or Heaven or whatever you want to call it. I'm concerned about the pain I think will occur during death. I don't know how I got from being airborne to being in some sort of underwater cave, safe and sound. I wondered if I was dead, but there were other people there and it became obvious we were alive.

I don't know how I got out of the cave. What I remember most is continuing to pray the "Hail Mary" as my mind replayed the traumatic events of the bomb exploding, me being airborne and the feeling of dread as I assumed I would be dying.

That's all I remember of the dream. My main thoughts about this are that I'm surprised I had the wits about me to pray at that moment. In waking moments, when I consider that type of traumatic event and what my response would be, I assume my adrenaline will take over and I won't remember to pray. I like to think I would pray, but I truly think I would be caught in the moment of fear.

After that dream, I think there might be hope for me and my spiritual life.


Another thanks: I'm sending an extra 1000 strides on the elliptical trainer to coexistapart who added me as a favorite recently. Thanks Coexistapart!


2007-03-03 at 9:11 a.m.

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