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!

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.

A visit from a long-lost friend

Posted on September 20, 2013 by angelacwatford

Dream:

There’s nothing quite like resting my head on this pillow. My eyes scan the room in the dark as a light from the street fills the space enough for me to interpret where I am. This is exactly how I remember spending nights in my childhood bedroom when all the world was asleep. This place where I grew up is now long gone, but it still houses countless memories, and I’m excited to see it exactly the way it was when I left.

To my surprise, my husband wakes up beside me. In waking life, he’s never seen this place and I couldn’t be happier to share the experience. We carry on a light conversation about our days until we’re interrupted by the sound of an animal scratching outside my bedroom window. I wonder if it is who I think it is…

My heart leaps in anticipation as I toss the covers aside and race to the back door. Still in the dark I can see there is a security alarm pad bolted to the wall. Shoot, I don’t know the pass code. My eyes well up at the thought of my long-lost companion unable to escape the cold backyard.

Just like in the old days, my mom hustles into the kitchen, flips on the lights and cheerfully greets me with a smile. “Angie! You must have heard Milo too. He’s already inside,” she consoles.

He curiously appears at my feet; my Siamese cat, a best friend that I loved and raised in my youth. It’s been nearly a decade since he passed away, but here he is now, swirling about with his tail high. He jumps onto the kitchen table so that I can get a closer look. (He never was allowed on the table when he was alive, but I’m certain that Mom doesn’t care now.)

The reunion alone is entirely too much fun to bear. We share a moment of affection as I scratch his head, smush his fluffy cheeks and rattle his ears the way I used to. I surely didn’t forget how much I love the way his eyes close when he meows, or how his purr rolls through my ears as we nuzzle our noses together.

All eyes are on Milo as my mom and I, now joined by my stepdad, shower him with attention. He jumps off the table, back to his old tricks, and begins tearing into a bag of his favorite cat food. My goodness, it’s so rejuvenating to see him – I never want to leave!

True colors

Posted on September 3, 2013 by angelacwatford

Dream:

“She’s such a great friend,” I said to myself. “She knows me so well.” This friend was tattooing vibrant red and pink roses down both of my shins. She chuckled before carefully coloring in a mural of wavy ocean lines to cover every patch of skin with ink. Down the outside of my right leg, bottle cap sized purple flowers were joined together by a single green vine. On the inside calf, a large yellow Möbius Strip wrapped around itself endlessly like a figure 8. There was no pain from the needle, but I guess that’s just a benefit of dreaming, right? I can’t believe she did this. I love it!

Ready to show off my new tatts, I jumped up and thanked her with a giant bear-hug. My flounce skirt was the perfect complement to the flowers and colors as I began to skip around the room. Wait ’till I show my husband!

In an instant, he appeared staring at my legs with a hand to his head, scratching his wavy golden locks.

“Wow,” he uttered, not wanting to show any sign of disapproval. I could tell he was supportive of my decision, but he wasn’t used to seeing me this way. Did I mention that I’ve never had a tattoo in my life? And there I stood before him with permanently decorated stems not wanting to admit that perhaps I could have just gotten a single tattoo of a butterfly or a Japanese word. Instead I went for a full pair of wildly loud leggings that could never be changed.

“What are you going to do about work?”

Hmm… I hadn’t really thought about it. My husband is usually my voice of reason, and he knows all too well that my corporate wardrobe includes a myriad of pencil skirts and pumps. Well, seeing as the dress code at work does not allow me to have tattoos, I guess I’ll be switching to pants.

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Life is but a dream

A journal of dreams, poems and waking life stories.

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Virtual dreaming

The perfect gift for a healing heart