Sunday, October 9, 2016
Last night I dreamed I was a terrestrial time-traveler. Well, not really time travel, it was like we could move from place-to-place by going to sleep in what appeared to be a motel room. Different rooms, of course. I say “we,” but I don’t remember who the others were.
The last time we tried to move there was a five-year-old little girl with us. She was wearing pink footie-pajamas and had a melodious laugh. She reminded me of every little girl in my family–including me.
We were staying at a bed-and-breakfast run by this older couple somewhere in the county. It was quite lovely with vintage handmade furniture and objets d’art past from mother to daughter and then again. We tried to move that night, but it didn’t work. I woke up early and discovered people were out of their beds. You see, we had to be in bed for the move to work.
I found the little girl lying happily under the bed singing songs and eating candy. She had an amazing story of her own to tell. She said someone came to her in the night and took her up on a big ship and had her sit in a little chair. The beings were really big, too big to sit in chairs. She described them, but I forgot what she said. They asked her a lot of questions, gave her candy when they finished. They tried to put her back on the bed but missed a bit. She thought under-the-bed was interesting so she stayed there checking it out.
We tried to move again the second night. I kept the little girl with me in my bed to make sure she went to sleep. I checked on the guys before going to bed. They were there as well, not sitting out watching the stars like the previous evening.
That night, the room started to shake and furnishings were lifted into the air. The heavy bed slid across the floor, mirrors crashed to the ground or was it the wife’s great grandmother’s Havilland china? The men came to our room to make sure we were ok, especially the little girl. We continued our ascent into the air as a group.
Then out of nowhere, Prince showed up. Yes, the Prince. He was young with feathered hair like the cover photo of his second album, Prince. I don’t remember if he was wearing a shirt or not. He asked if we had anything better to drink that whiskey. I gave him an apple; he seemed to be happy with that. He asked how we were doing. Then said everything would be fine once we got into some better clothes.
Chatting with him made us forget the fearfulness of our current situation. In fact, we were now looking out the window at the people below. It appeared we were on a ship—a spaceship to be exact. It was one of the big round ships with steam-spitting values and rust spots, but it got the job done. I looked back at Prince to tell him what I was seeing but he was sitting in another row far behind me, headed in a different direction. I signed that I loved him. He signed back that he loved me too and then he signed that he loved the world. Then his ship or his part of the ship, went way. He went away.
This dream was quite comforting. I was glad that to see Prince again. I was surprised to see him, exceeding grateful for his presence.
©2018 Joy of Eryka