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Some people have reported that their dreams have gotten more vivid, or that they’ve had an unusually strong sense of God, or felt the presence or heard the voice of departed loved ones—has anything like that happened to you? If it has, tell us about it.
My dreams are often drawn and look real. The people and places remain actual but I see them as drawn by hand.Yesterday, on a facetime birthday (7th) call to CA from CT our granddaughter used some odd app - and she became a black and white drawing of herself - so now my dream seems closer to reality. I am dreaming of crossing a frozen lake (like the oil painting I created after walking across Lake Candlewood) on a bitterly cold day with my husband. I completed this R/T once - vowing never again - and we were fine. In my dream I must once again cross the frozen lake but I am afraid that due to climate change I will break through and die. I feel death is close - not a distant & abstract concept any longer - I must wear a mask in my dream and no virus is lurking on the other side of the lake. I will contract covid only if I remain on this side of the lake. I must cross. I wear my Star of David around my neck and hold hands with my husband. We begin to walk on the ice. Crack crack crack !! Tree stumps stick up, all are dead. This lake is manmade & originally flooded rolling farmland. Crack crack crack! I want to turn back but fear covid. Suddenly my feet slip beneath me as the ice opens in a wide gap. I reach for my husband and we look at each other closely. It is the same glance as the moment several winters ago when at 2 AM, 10th floor of Marriott, Anchorage Alaska a 7.1 earthquake shook our room violently, the hotel was like a ship tossed in violent waves. Miraculously we felt secure simply because we were with one another. CRACK CRACK CRACK I wake up and reach across our bed for my husband’s hand.
October 29, 2020
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How is the coronavirus pandemic affecting your life right now? Tell us about your experiences, feelings, and thoughts.
This week was my son’s third birthday. Instead of a party or a special outing we had cake and presents and bbqed outside since it was unseasonably warm. One set of his grandparents are now fully vaccinated so they came over for a little while (still outside only, still in masks). We had many FaceTime calls throughout the evening: the other grandparents, cousins, friends. My son was thrilled. And I realized he doesn’t even know a world where friends come over to houses or where kids ride carousels. Just his two of his grandparents stopping by was over the top amazing for him. This comfort of his with this pandemic life is both hugely helpful and a bit devastating for me. When we go hiking on the weekends, he runs to the side of the trail when we run into other hikers, he reminds me to “Give the people space, mommy”. When we pick up books at the library, he looks in through the glass, not wistfully as he did a year ago, but practically to see what he might want to order for next time. He doesn’t even remember going inside anymore. Words like “mask”, “curbside pickup” and “sanitizer” are part of his daily vocabulary. Covid life is the only life he knows.
February 28, 2021