Dream: Changing to Who You Are

This mornings dream:

My sister and I were at my Aunty Snow’s house. We were to be left alone while my mother and two of her sisters went to a night club for drinks. My sister and I were our current ages but seen and treated as if we were young teenagers being trusted alone for the night. I the dream, my two aunts and my mother were in their late to mid 40’s.

At Aunty Snow’s house, Aunty Bundy came up the stairs dressed in a beautiful floral top. It had three layers of different lengths. Each layer gradually became sheer at the bottom. As she walked by me in the blouse I could see that one layer revealed that she wasn’t  wearing a bra. I could see about 2 inches of breast and nipple.

As she went up to the room to gather with her sisters she stood behind a dresser so as not to show herself to us. In the room where the three of them spoke to us, it was like Toys R Us. The walls had cases built holding hundreds upon hundreds of stuffed animals and dolls. The cases reached the ceiling leaving no space at all. There were huge stuffed animals on the floor as well.

I asked questions about where they were going and when they would return, but my mother was coy. I then said to her, “Remember who you are.” After saying that she melted into a pile of black goo that then formed into a black plastic punching bag. The punching bag was filled with air but not all the way so that it sagged in some areas. She stayed that way for only a minute or two then changed into a black plastic mattress (3 feet by 4 feet). A minute or two later she changed into a 33 gallon black trash bag that was torn down the middle. The bag was empty except for a few tiny dry chicken bones in zip lock sandwich bags. In the other sandwich bags was the dry, shredded, chicken from the bones. Upon seeing this I held the bags in my arms and cried. I told her, I didn’t mean that you’re trash I meant, remember when you’re out that you’re a Christian.

For several minutes she was trash but then she changed into the seat of an electric wheelchair. The seat was flimsy, not full of cushion or stuffing as normal. She was just the black seat, not the wheels or motor. After a few minutes of being the chair she began talking to everyone in the room as the chair. We couldn’t see her but we could hear that it was her voice and that she was getting closer to returning to herself. She said for her sisters to go out to the bar as planned and that she’d be okay.


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