The cloud of glory and a wedding

Posted on February 13, 2021 by angelacwatford

Dream:

Inside a large white canopy tent, I follow the grass beneath my feet toward an open doorway. The opening, like a drawn curtain, reveals a thick cloud that fully engulfs us outside. I pause in this moment, captivated by an exuberating sense of peace and unwavering joy. The cloud illuminates our space inside and out. It surrounds us like a warm and palpable morning fog. I am filled with a calm love, and not a measure of stress about this wedding day.

There’s a little work to do, so I carefully affix flowers to an arbor, and finalize the décor by hanging a gold number 2 on a garland.

As I turn to my left, family and friends gather around me, clapping and cheering. There are faces I haven’t seen since I was a child. It’s such a great joy to have them join me on this wonderful day. We smile at each other as the main event draws near.

Over to my right is a full-length mirror. I must step forward to look at myself. Oh wow, I’m a bride! My wedding dress is beautifully decorated with pearls and lace; a classic A-line style with long sleeves. I’m filled with glee and smiling from ear to ear! My dark hair is longer than usual, reaching down my back. I notice it’s matted through with tangles.

Conveniently stationed beside the mirror is a bridal vanity desk decorated with a lace cloth. Resting on top, a small sheet of notebook paper catches my eye. My notes! I glance over a hand-written list of items that must be in place before the wedding can begin. With peace and certainty, I acknowledge that all planning and preparations are finished. Everything is ready, except for my hair.

Taking a seat in front of the mirror, I lift a brush to my hair and begin to carefully work out the tangles.

Waking life:

It should be noted that preceding this dream was a period of uncertainty and anxiety in my waking life. I decided to take my cares to the cross. The night before, I lifted-up my worries to Jesus and just said, “Lord please keep my at your side no matter what happens.” From the moment I woke from this dream, the anxiety was gone, and it hasn’t returned.

Exodus 40:34 (KJV) Then a cloud covered the tent of the congregation, and the glory of the LORD filled the tabernacle.

On February 9, 2021, only a few weeks after the dream, we experienced a very dense fog in Houston, TX. I rejoiced and praised God for his amazing glory!

This dream is also marked by two chords that I heard playing over and over for weeks. I determined later that these chords comprise the song “Nothing but the blood” by Fernando Ortega.

An interpretation of the bride’s tangled hair can represent confusion. I believe the Lord Jesus Christ is coming soon to receive his bride, and there’s no need to stress or worry over the details. It’s important to work through the confusion and unite our hearts and minds on preparing for his return.

The nightmare before Manchester

Posted on June 25, 2017 by angelacwatford

Dream:

This place is huge. Blacks and grays surround me from the wings as I stand in an open space, stage right. The mood is busy and focused. A crew of stagehands cross the black floor carrying chords and gear in preparation for an event – maybe a ceremony? The venue is flooded with light overhead – open and airy as if we are outside on a cloudy morning.

I think of the possibilities. Perhaps this is a graduation ceremony, or a time and place to honor a special individual. Maybe this will be the place of a great speech. Positivity is in the air. At least until I see… them.

Far beyond the stage, I witness evil “beings” like chess pieces taking their seats, lining up with anticipation for something I cannot even begin to imagine. These satanic creatures file one-by-one through an opening in a low brick wall of protection that resembles a jury box with two rows of three seats.

One of them is a rook, a little castle with glowing yellow eyes. It takes the front-row middle seat. Another is a man with a long black cloak. He lets the hood drape over his head casting shadows, dark as night, over his face. He stands over the third figure – what looks to be an atom, translucent with tiny lights swirling and moving around it in a knot.

2846_001

The group is waiting patiently for the atom to finish forming in its place. They are nearly ready… but for what? Something satanic, something purely evil and sinister. I can feel it with all of my soul.

I look away before identifying the other three beings. I am too overwhelmed with rage and fear scanning the room for answers. They should NOT be here!

A man approaches and sits down before me with knees crossed on the floor, ready to talk about what they have planned. Wearing short-sleeves and a wide smile, his trimmed black hair and sideburns frame his face. His eyes are open and large with heavy eyebrows raised as if he is eagerly waiting for the answer to a question. He seems pretty excited and proud of himself.

Before he can utter any words, I openly scold him with a righteous rebuke that could cut with a sword.

“I know what you’re doing here! You’re not going to get away with this, and the POWER of GOD IN HEAVEN will rain FIRE upon you!”

I watch his pupils dilate like windows opening to reveal the black-hole within him. I take this as an invitation to reprimand his soul directly. He silently pulls back letting the silly smirk on his face turn over as words that I do not even recall ever having in my bones spew out of my mouth. Words of condemnation and wrath. By the frightened look on his face, I can tell that he has never heard these particular words before.

The rook, motionless and mute, looks at me from across the room.

2829_001

Everyone looks. I know they hear me… but I will not be silenced. I shout louder so all of the creatures can hear about the coming judgement upon their heads!

Something shoves me out of the scene like a door slamming in my face. Everything disappears in a cloudy mist.

—

My eyes blink slowly and redirect me to a new place – a small, sunlit-white bedroom. I’m resting comfortably on a twin bed donned with fluffy white down comforters that cradle my body. It feels like a Saturday morning.

On the wall above my feet, there’s a non-working mahogany wall clock. It must be an antique – maybe mid 19th century. Clean white face, dark wood curves – I squint my eyes and try to make out the time, but for some reason, I just can’t grasp it. To my surprise and enjoyment, my dad walks through the door on the right and carefully takes the clock off the wall. He sits down beside me and turns it over.

“We’ve got to fix this thing. I’m resetting it to November 11.”

Holding its plug into a bowl of salt, he recharges the clock and sets the dial. Perfect.

Waking life:

On May 22, 2017, around 7 am PDT I awoke from this terrible nightmare with so many questions. The answers came later that evening. What I believe I witnessed was the evil preparation before the Manchester Arena bombing.

The days that followed were filled with sadness and grief. Seeing images of the perpetrator’s face still sends chills up my spine due to his strong resemblance to the man I scolded in the dream. The only consolation I feel after all of this is knowing that I tried my best to condemn the evil, but there’s only so much one can do while dreaming – even in a lucid state. In waking life, all we have is prayer.

The Abominable Spider

Posted on October 31, 2014 by angelacwatford

Dream:

Behind the old green hedges that line my childhood home, I crouch down and let the branches of dry leaves surround me until I’m hidden like a tiny bird. I catch a glimpse of dew drops glistening on a freshly spun spider web, and realize that I’m most certainly destined to encounter the owner of this intricate creation. As quickly as the thought enters my mind, the creature appears silently and alert – a hairy beast of a spider (nearly the size of my hand) resembling the Abominable Snowman with eight legs and huge fangs. Oh brother!

My mind keeps telling me to pull back and run, but for some reason I can’t resist the urge to poke at it – as if this Abominable Spider is actually a chubby baby’s cheek begging for a squeeze. With my index finger extended, I creep closer inch by inch in what feels like a never-ending stand-off. The magnetic attraction of the spider continues to draw me in until I’m dangerously too close. OUCH!!!! (Wow, I clearly have horrible reflexes to go along with my bad judgment in this dream.)

I feel a burning pinch on the underside of my forearm where the spider’s fangs puncture my skin. In an instant, the retched perpetrator scurries off never to be seen again, leaving me to bleed in terror. Immediately I can feel numbness in my arm beginning to spread from the wound as my entire limb changes from flesh tones to various shades of purple and black. I stumble out of the bush and, with every ounce of strength I can muster, drag my self to the front porch of the house and crash through the front door. Family and friends crowded in the living room gasp in horror as I collapse into a ball on the carpet.

“Take me to the hospital!” I demand. “The venom is spreading to my heart!” A stranger picks me up and places me on a flatbed dolly as the scenery morphs into a hospital corridor. The pressing weight of death bears down on my chest as I give up all strength and lie limp on the cold metal. The man pulls me along, coasting through the sterile hospital hallways as wind from each swinging door splashes me in the face like cool water. Through the last set of doors, we enter a bright open room when I notice a toddler sitting on the tile floor, completely alone and uncared for.

“STOP!” I shout and the cart screeches to a halt. How can this child be left alone out here? I’m appalled and terrified that her parents are nowhere to be found. As I reach my one good arm out, the baby eagerly crawls over to me and climbs on my chest to get a closer look at this passing atrocity. She stares at me with a piercing concern for my well-being and a pacifier in her mouth. Her shiny black eyes are an ocean of wisdom as she places her hand on my shoulder. Then it hits me like a ton of bricks. I’m not here to rescue this child… she is here to comfort me. At this moment, I’m surrounded by warmth and love. I know in my heart that everything is going to be ok.

Virtual dreaming

Posted on April 10, 2014 by angelacwatford

Dream:

At the entrance of a Virtual Reality Dome, a sort of man-made universe in a biosphere, the blissful scene of an ocean sunset calls to me – as if to say “come and have a look.” I creep inside, barefoot and bewildered, trying to decipher what’s real and what’s fake. I know this ‘dome’ is no larger than a house, but from inside here I can see that this is a whole new experience. The horizon is endless in all directions making me wonder if it’s possible to become lost. There’s a brightness, a sort of joyful glow that fills the space.

Hanging low like a single light bulb, the sun, along with its posse of soft pink clouds, basks in its own reflection over the water. I move forward slowly, squishing the spongy earth between my toes with each step as the ground sweeps out in front of me, and breaks off at the edge of a cliff. Without hesitation, my knees bend like a frog, enabling me to pet the fluffy seaweed-like grass with my hands. I’m comforted and relieved that something is real. This is the perfect spot to have a seat and rest for a moment while I take in the shoreline view.

From the salty smell to the sounds of waves breaking and crashing into one another, I’m carried away by the tranquil paradise and begin to meditate on the whispering breeze. The beach is spectacular, although I can’t help but remind myself that my senses are deceiving me.

After a brief moment of complete relaxation, I catch a glimpse of something quite puzzling – something peculiar about the ocean. I’ve seen this wave before! My eyes squint as I examine the wave pattern closely, and determine that each wave is programmed in a loop that replays over and over. Of course! I must have been so lost in the moment that I forgot these waves are constructed by someone behind a computer screen. Well, virtual waves may not be as infinite and unique as waking-life ones, but this will do for now. I’m at peace.

A recipe for adventure

Posted on November 10, 2013 by angelacwatford

Dream:

At the edge of a cliff, three of us suit up and piece together our harnesses and buckles for a hang gliding adventure. The rocks and smooth pebbles crunch under our feet as we prepare for a massive jump into the crystal blue lagoon below.

Are we ready? Yes! We nod at each other, fasten our belts and give it a running start. Like children diving into a pool, we push off the edge of the cliff with all of our energy. Our bodies, supported by our man-made wings, lift into the air and soar above the cove weightless and free! The rush is so incredible as we drift high over the earth and circle back to the water, readying ourselves for a perfect landing.

I let out a short laugh, swallow a huge breath and plunge feet-first into the abyss. My gear causes no trouble as I quickly unhook myself and shed my wings. One after the other, my friends drop into the water and we race back to land like dolphins. In reality, I’m not a great swimmer, but there are no limitations here as I push forward with a perfect stroke and reach the shore.

The three of us agree that this is the coolest experience ever when suddenly we hear music and laughing. Once out of the water, we follow the sounds and are greeted by a gorgeous Indian woman wearing a yellow sari with a bright pink scarf. Her eyes are captivating and match perfectly with her scarlet lips and flowing black hair.

“Can you believe this? It’s simply wonderful – I can’t wait to find out what’s on the third floor,” she says. I don’t catch her name, though her bubbling personality screams that she most definitely is an extrovert and already knows us without needing to ask. The woman gestures for us to follow her toward a stone building as the sound of Tablas and Sitars grows louder, luring and inviting us to visit the Indian festival inside. At the entrance, she charismatically begins speaking with perfect strangers and wanders off to ask a gentleman for information about the third floor. There must be something pretty fantastic up there.

Moving forward past a seasoned crowd of shoppers, we cram into the building through a small open door and push our way to the front of a showroom where a cooking demonstration is taking place. A young Korean woman begins her class on how to make Honey Mustard Sticky Rice. Wow! This sounds good…

One cup of honey
One cup of mustard
A large bowl of rice (possibly 8 servings)

The girl casually sings a mysterious song as she mixes the ingredients together in a clear Pyrex bowl. She scoops the rice into individual servings and tops each bowl with sesame seeds and chopped green onions. I seriously can’t wait to make this when I wake up!

Another airport nightmare

Posted on October 25, 2013 by angelacwatford

Dream:

“WHAT did you say?” I repeated while staring down the sassy airline attendant behind the customer service desk. Pretending to be partially deaf, I leaned in closer to her crimson blazer as if it were a microphone. My hearing wasn’t the issue. I heard her clearly the first two times and didn’t care for her tone, so I dared her to repeat it one more time.

“WHAAT?” The hairs stood up on the back of my neck as I prepared myself for an all out verbal assault.

“The International Hotel!” she snapped and her devilish brown eyes bulged out of her head like a goldfish.

Several less-than-amused passengers from my flight impatiently tapped their feet and checked their watches, waiting in line for their turn to receive the same abuse. Apparently, all of our luggage was not only missing, but somehow transported to an International Hotel some unknown distance away from the airport. At least I think that’s what she said.

(Waking life note: I find it interesting that, at this point in the dream, I realized that I could not recall what she said, because there was no memory of it in the dream. It seemed as though the past did not exist – there was only the present. Upon waking, I could only recall that the last two words she spoke which were “International Hotel.” This could be an ongoing lucid dreaming experiment. Stay tuned!)

After seeing this woman nearly self destruct behind the counter, I decided not to cause any more of a scene. I picked up my carry-on which contained something well worth the attention. My beloved dog, Bear. He had traveled with me on the flight, and was the only comfort I had in this overcrowded airport. I reached into my bag and pulled Bear to my heart, then cradled him in my arms. “Oh Bear, how are we going to get out of this mess?” His calm temperament and soft, mink like fur kept me from losing my cool. Luckily for us, there was a shuttle outside waiting to hustle us along to the International Hotel. The only choice we had was to catch that bus on time.

The perfect gift for a healing heart

Posted on October 5, 2013 by angelacwatford

Dream:

I have always been enamored with your eclectic bedroom; your knick-knacks and trinkets, the warm and cozy feeling of being surrounded by your ideas. I’m careful not to touch anything – just as I was when I would sneak into your room as a child to get a glimpse of the unknown.

My eyes feel their way around the corners of your bookcases and scan your shelves for new experiences. A few wine bottles full of liquid, frozen in time, stare back at me from a wine rack mounted to the wall. Below the wine is your old light box with seedlings and sprouted plants for your garden. In the center of the room is a well-lit table covered with bright, crystal figurines. This must be where you keep your treasures now.

As I take my eyes off of the beautiful surroundings and place them on you, I notice how youthful and peaceful you are in this room. I see that you also don’t require glasses anymore, but your hair hasn’t changed and your smile still stretches from ear to ear. This is so perfectly you.

“Well, everything is here. You can have anything you want.” Your words ring through my ears as you lift your hand out towards me holding a small gift in your palm. The only way I can explain this gift, is that it appears to be a black Rubik’s cube with hundreds of fluorescent needles and colors breaking through the surface like a sprouted bean. It symbolizes something intelligent, something intricate and imaginative. I’ve never seen one before.

While it may be the most amazing and heavenly thing I’ve ever been offered, I cannot accept it. Actually, it’s not what I want at all. I lunge forward and wrap my arms so tightly around you and give you the greatest hug that I ever could. One that I never had a chance to give you before you passed away. Feeling you squeeze me back heals my soul and steadies my weary heart.

I thank the Lord above for this moment, and for the wonderful gift of dreaming.

Roller coaster of the future

Posted on September 27, 2013 by angelacwatford

Dream:

Underneath a rosy pink and cloudless afternoon sky, a massive cluster of spectators gathers around a brand new roller coaster ride. I begin to push through the crowd, but can’t seem to figure out what I’m doing here. Theme parks aren’t really my cup of tea anymore, so I continue passing through a non-conforming line of bodies that stretches beyond the outside gates. This place is fantastically distracting, but I really do not know where I am. Unable to see what’s ahead, I press onto my tip-toes and decide to move closer to the attraction.

I climb up the side of a concrete stairway that lifts me onto a lookout point. Peering over the edge, I can barely get a glimpse of what all the oohs and aah’s are about. Wild screams swoosh by as a roller coaster car darts to the left, full of thrill seekers dangling their feet and waving their hands in the air. The car spirals around a structural pipe and drops its passengers at speeds I can’t even imagine.

This is definitely no ordinary ride, I think to myself as a giant hologram of John Lennon builds on itself and towers over the tracks. Picture John in his late 60’s era clothing, with glasses and chin-length hair. The crowd cheers in excitement as John begins speaking, but it is way too loud for anyone to make out what he’s saying. The sight alone is so magnificent that it quite possibly makes no difference to anyone.

As if the crowd needs any more stimuli, bright lights flash in clusters and dangle over the roller coaster car as it moves – almost like a baby’s mobile toy. The lights float above the cars, unattached to any strings that I can see. Could this be another hologram? Maybe a flash of bling just puts everyone over the edge. They seemed to squeal with delight at every turn.

Wow, I’m actually impressed by the lightning speed of this ride, when it hits me like a ton of bricks. Oh yeah, I was looking for someone! Everything here is entirely too distracting.

	angelacwatford on When the show is over, the tim…
	rlp152 on When the show is over, the tim…
	angelacwatford on The perfect gift for a healing…
	Casey on The perfect gift for a healing…
	Poetry Saturday: Liv… on Be true to yourself

Life is but a dream

A journal of dreams, poems and waking life stories.

Category Archives: Dream (B)log

Virtual dreaming

The perfect gift for a healing heart

Roller coaster of the future