HEARTBREAK 1

DREAM

CONTENT: POSSIBLE PAST LIFE, DEATH

SUMMARY

Boyfriend/Husband does the right thing and forfeits his life.

ACCOUNT

Sunday, June 14, 1992
11:30 AM
AGE: 30

SEGMENT 1

I'm looking out of my bedroom window[1] and see a police car[2] come around a corner and drive over the sidewalk, leaving behind big clumps of grass on the sidewalk. I'm disgusted that the police caused the mess, then I see the car scrape some bushes.

SEGMENT 2

I'm black and feel sad because my boyfriend or husband[3] snitched on some drug dealers, and they have marked him for death ('death squad' comes to mind). I think he opts to die by lethal injection (or has no choice but to). He enters the bedroom from the hallway. He has come to say his final goodbye, but I can't accept that he'll be leaving me, and I cry with great sorrow because I'll miss him dearly.

We're sitting on a couch or chair and hold each other. He's being very strong and supportive, but I'm weak and lovesick. A black man is sitting behind me to my left, waiting to take my husband away, but I just can't let him go. I look over at the left window and there is a black ornate headboard in front of it. I say to myself that I will paint it white as a tribute to my husband's memory.

After several hugs and much crying on my part he has to leave. The man and me walk to the edge of a dresser near the entrance, and I bend over with my face touching the table. I say in a pleading manner, "Oh God (or "Please God") don't let this happen/don't let him go." The man and/or my husband look back at me. Then just before they leave, I look at the headboard and say, "I'll start on the headboard," meaning that it will give me a purpose for going on without him. They leave soon after.

I enter the kitchen[4] where the light is on and a black female in her late 30's or early 40's is cooking greens. I take some, layering them on my plate and cutting them into sections. One leaf is reddish. I ask the woman a question, but she doesn't reply. An atmosphere of a funeral is in the house.

FINAL COMMENTS

Saturday, March 6, 1999
5:30 PM

There was great emotional sorrow. I seemed to love this man very much.

Saturday, November 6, 2010
6:31 PM

This dream was among a series of dreams about love and loss. They provided me insight into why in this life love has been intangible and elusive. In another dream very similar to this one, I vowed that I would--as the cliche goes--"never love again." So am I, in this life, living out that vow? If so, can I reverse it in this life?

Sunday, March 6, 2011
4:20 PM appx

I was reviewing this dream today and wondered as I had when I first had this dream, if this dream (and the other about losing my spouse) is a modernized version of something that actually happened in a previous lifetime, some distant era where I loved someone deeply and lost them in a similar fashion where they did what they thought was the right thing to do and paid the cost with their life. I can entirely imagine that when in this dream I had asked God to intervene--to not let my man be taken, to be killed--but He did not, that I would vow to never put myself in a similar situation again. Such a promise--if one believes in reincarnation, mind you--would likely extend to any successive lifetime until I learned the futility of such a promise. Urrgh!

I see other parallels in this life to the dream above. Like my struggle to understand why God allows things to happen to good people and innocent children, etc. And in this life I've fought with the reality of God. Further, in this life I have seriously desired to be loved--to know the feel of it, to see it in action--and to be IN love. But the love I am most desirous of is that of a man who loves me with all his heart and soul, the way I loved the man in the dream. To me, the greatest lesson in my life is to learn to love (preferably without fear of loss) and to accept love--to believe in (and value) the sincerity of the person offering it.

Which brings me to why this and the other love and loss dreams occurred. I had been praying to God about why did not have love in my life--why I grew up feeling unloved; why when anyone said they loved me, I found the declaration meaningless and false; and why I grew up in a family where love wasn't shown or even voiced from time to time? I remember the only time my maternal grandmother (who raised me) said she loved me: It was elementary school graduation day. I remember exactly where I stood and can still faintly feel her hug me and say "I love you." My thought then was "Yeah, right, sure you do." Because at that moment I thought (as I do now), "How can you beat someone with your hands, sticks, and belts and say that you love them."

NOTES

[1]

The dream bedroom is exactly like that of current apt. in 1992 except the furnishings.

[2]

It was the new car model (black & white) the town got that year.

[3]
White or light skin black.

[4]
Similar to kitchen of current apt. in 1992

LAST UPDATED: March 6, 2011