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Sunday, February 21, 2010: Lucid Dream and the Bridesmaid in Peach

           How strange---to have someone cross my path in a dream (a young woman in a peach bridesmaid dress), someone so upset that I actually stop my own dream activities to focus on her.

           “What are you staring at?” She definitely expected to be alone when she’d entered the small storage room. She quickly pulls herself together, looking around as if trying to invent a reasonable excuse for leaving the main room.

            “I can’t help but notice that something has you very upset.”

            She raises her chin and shrugs a shoulder. One tough chick. The look on her face tells me this is none of my business, yet I worry about the depth of her emotional turmoil.  It seems wrong to leave anyone alone when they struggle with internal pain like this.

        The door opens: a young woman looking for the missing bridesmaid. This must be a girl friend by the relief on the second woman’s face and the way she quickly moves across the dimly lit room to put an arm around the shoulder of her friend.  Whatever is transpiring here should no longer be my concern. The bridesmaid has support from a close friend. Yet, my feet remain frozen in place. I cannot leave.

         “I was just getting away from a stuffy room,” says the bridesmaid, smiling to reassure her friend. The explanation is said a bit too cheerily (for her friend’s sake), and too loudly (for my sake). She glances back in my direction and seems unnerved to find a stranger still watching, witness to her emotional deception.  

        “What are you staring at?” I see her eyes narrow, her mouth tighten. Obviously she’d entered the storage room intent on finding privacy. I am an unwanted intruder in her private hell.

           “I’m an empath,” I reply softly, unable to turn away.  “I can’t help but feel your pain.” Pain this desperate should not be repressed or denied. I watch her put up a wall of resistance to my concern.

           The earlier dream sequence had been so routine, so typical of early morning dreams---actions swirling through an emotional landscape, somewhat flatter than in lucid encounters. I remember that entering the storeroom had first started me questioning the dreamscape, the odd turn in events that had made me leave my own friends and step into the seclusion of this strange, cluttered side room. Had I picked up on the bridesmaid’s distant approach? Had it pulled me out of normal dream awareness?

          I have never empathically felt someone else’s emotional pain in a dream before.  Here I am, once again, seeing and feeling someone’s pain despite their determination to repress any public show of emotion; only now I am fully conscious of being in the dreamstate. No matter how calmly the bridesmaid composes herself, no matter how brightly she smiles, she is emotionally ripped and bleeding inside. She cannot hide that from me.

          Why would a stranger appear in my dream, unwilling to let me into her private pain, yet obviously desperate enough reach out emotionally? I wake, still uncertain what action is expected of me. If she ever returns to my dreams, I can only hope it will not be a repeat of this morning, that I will not find myself rooted in place, a helpless observer.

Posted on Sunday, February 21, 2010 at 11:16AM by Registered CommenterThe Skeptical Mystic | CommentsPost a Comment

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