I had an odd dream last night.
Sitting out beneath the stars as usual, Arugru nearby to watch over me, I drifted away into what other people might consider peace. Usually it is not so for me. Usually, I dream of death, blood, destruction and, more often than not, my past. The last twenty-something years often haunt me in my sleep and that, perhaps, is the reason that more than a few people have commented on how sorrowful I appear when I think no one is watching me.
Last night, however, it was different. Dream I did, but none of the normal images crept unbidden into my unconscious mind. Rather this dream was of an entirely different nature altogether.
I dreamt of lambs. Two small, soft, little lambs came to me and followed me through a field. Looking in all directions, I could not see where they might have come from for no other sheep were in evidence. They were alone, then, lost, with no one to care for their safety. What could I do but allow them to follow? What could I do but take them in?
The dream shifted, as dreams so often do. No longer was I standing in that wide empty field. Now I sat in a flower-strewn meadow, with trees along the boundaries. Somehow, I knew that I had purchased this plot of land, that this green and pleasant space belonged to me insofar as any land could. I felt comforted and secure, sitting there with an open book atop my lap as I sketched out plans for a new home here. In my minds eye, my dream self could see that which I wished to create; a lofty hall of many rooms. One would have been a sleeping area, another would be a sewing room, a distillery, a kitchen, whilst another room, a little larger than the others, would have served as a hall of healing. That last would have led to a barn-like construct, with an open door and a ramp leading upwards that my little lambs may let themselves inside to find shelter. It would have been constructed from redwood and oak, the low roof shining beneath the sunlight. As I sketched, I looked up to see the lambs frollicking nearby, happy now, their white fleece almost glowing with an inner-light.
The dreamscape shifted once more. I stood now before a fully built house, but my back was turned to it. I watched the meadow beyond, smiling at the sight which greeted me. A flock was there, all fluffy white and milling around peacefuly. Between the older sheep, yet more lambs sprang and played, dancing their joy in the afternoon sunlight. The original two were older now, standing to either side of me and yet just a few steps before, watching over their domain as was I. It was peaceful and pleasing. It felt safe and warm and inviting; a home to more than just myself.
I am given to believe that dreams have meaning, but being of such a literal-minded nature, I find it difficult to discern the meaning behind this one. I sincerely doubt that purchasing some land and raising a flock of sheep will change my life or bestow upon me the sense of belonging that I once craved. Perhaps it is a metaphor; the sheep signifying innocent souls and the shepherd their guardian, but I see no place in that picture for me. I have no interest in holding power over others. I have no desire to be the one they look to for protection.
Am I missing something? Some startling and important revelation? I find that most likely. Perhaps another, someone of a more figurative outlook than I may be able to allude to the symbolism behind this.
