Dr.B this is the train track dream…
From grandmother’s house with the mother trying to figure out what to eat for dinner, fridge gross and filled with half empty bottles of ketch, grape jelly and relish. Left the g-mother’s house to go jogging ended up in old school, same stair case in the dreams but something new happened. I ended up leaving that school to walk down the street. I walked a bit and met up with old friends. Talked about a guy that was killed recently. I’d read in the paper that he was in town. The guy was hit by a train. The guy was the king of his own country and someone I’d met a long time ago when he was about 18 and a prince. I was supposed to marry him but didn’t. The specifics are what kinda worry me. In the other dream from a very long time ago he was the prince of …. get this, the prince of Wheaton, Illinois. His name was Wes. He had been killed earlier that week by the same man who was present when his father died. That man’s name was Wilkinson. He was killed on the train tracks too.
The train tracks that I later went down were winding. They crossed in and out and across each other. I was running across them with bare feet and trying not to step on jagged rocks. I was following behind a man whose face I never saw. Tall black man, heavy set, dark skin, blue jacket, black pants, needed a hair cut. He seemed to know where he was going and how to get around the mess of tracks. Ever once in awhile a short train would come by and I’d have to second guess it. I’d have to anticipate which track he would go down and be out of the way. It was never a close call. I actually moved about that twisted block of tracks with ease the same as the guy in front of me. Other people who attempted the tracks didn’t do it so well. They were hit by the trains. There were bodies being picked up by the morgue. Most of them had severed legs and bled out but others were hit full body on and died immediately. This man and I never got hit. We avoided looking too long at the accidents because it would distract us from anticipating the moves of the train.
I never saw the man’s face, just his back. He seemed to be helpful. He seemed to know how to move around the tracks without getting hit.
What struck me as odd was that I was kinda having fun choosing little icons, especially the duck to represent me. They called me Little Duck for so long that I actually still go by it. Somehow that feels different than being called by my birth name. I’m not sure why but it does. So when it came time to choose something for the guy I couldn’t choose a humorous icon. I felt rather sad then kinda drifted away. I dissociated for just a second then kicked into some skills. What just happened? Why has this changed? Everything was okay until the last icon.
This dream was so specific with names and clothing, the store and the entrance to the side, the chain link fence around the store, the placement of the bodies in relation to the fire trucks (not an ambulance but a fire truck). It’s all exactly as it was in the dream. My relation to the man is the way it was in the dream. The only differences are the funny icons which set the mood to a humorous one. The dream was not considered a nightmare because I didn’t wake feeling like my stomach collapsed on itself. I didn’t feel empty and weighed down by invisible sheet rock.
Common theme-
- The grandmother’s house
- Prince Wes was in a dream one other time
- Wheaton, Illinois
New
The train tracks were interesting because of a past experience. I use to live by one. At times I would cross the field and go up the hill, maneuver around dropped coal and sit on the tracks waiting for the train to come. It didn’t come so I went back home. Recently I thought for just a second about exiting this place. It was a fleeting thought but a scary one since it’s come up about 3 times in the last month or so. I know I’m capable of trying so I’m watching my step very closely, conserving emotional energy when I can and spending it wisely.
Aussie
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