Fear

It is bad enough my conscious mind likes to gang up on me. Today is one of those days when my subconscious has to get into the action. I'm hoping that getting the words on the page will lessen the fear.

I have recurring dreams about houses. It used to be houses I used to live in or my grandparents' historic home. There would be odd staircases and such, but it never caused any kind of reaction on waking other than an "Oh, that was kind of weird." Then it switched to new houses. The scenario was my family had just moved into a new house and I was trying to find my way around and see which room was going to be mine.

At first the houses were kind of normal, then they got weird in an Escher kind of way with staircases everywhere. Then recently it changed to huge, grand houses with suites, not rooms. I would wander from suite to suite trying to see if one would suit me. These were Parade of Homes-type suites larger than most houses and there was always some sort of theme, like music or children's books. Again, there was no sense of menace or fear, just an "Oh, that was weird."

This morning that changed. This time I was the first one into the house and the rest of my family wasn't there. Instead I had cats with me, and they were all cats that I have lost: Lyvani, Ashi and Sundae. The house was absolutely huge, with a double staircase and front doors big enough for an elephant. The first thing I did was make sure the cats were settled with food and such, then someone came up and offered to help. I never did see them, I just knew they were there and could hear them speak. They told me that the house was huge and it would be hard for me to find the right room so if I would tell them what kind of room I liked, they would lead me in the right direction.

I told them I liked simple with earth tones and such, and they showed me a couple of rooms. Again, they were beyond grand, but simpler than ones I had seen in past dreams. One had floor-to-ceiling windows that looked over a lake and mountains. It had a special place set up for painting and I was told that here I would never run out of paints or canvas. I told them it was really nice but had to shelves for my books. I was told anything I needed could be changed, and I was "shown" several ways that bookshelves could be added to the room. I kept getting told over and over that anything I needed or wanted could be done.

I started to wake up then, and in that semi-lucid state between waking and dreaming a thought came to my mind: They were trying to find the right room for me in Heaven and the reason they were now helping instead of letting me wander alone was that we were running out of time.

I woke up in a sweat with a horrible feeling of impending doom. Yes, that sounds overly dramatic, but that is exactly what it feels like. I haven't been feeling suicidal at all, but I have been sicker than normal. I have been even more shaky and tired. And I just can't shake that something is really wrong. I guess only time will tell if it is just my mind playing with me again.