I dreamed I died.

I dreamed that I was being held hostage in a house along with my sister and a whole bunch of my NNU friends. There were people with guns. One was a blonde woman. The guns weren't bullet-guns, though. They were loaded with darts with poison on them that made you fall asleep and then die. The group of us hostages were trying to find a way to break out... I can't remember how we did it, but somehow we rose up against the bad guys. Everybody got out, but me and my sister stayed behind to fight the bad guys. We somehow got a hold of a couple of those guns and were battling it out with the woman and the others outside on the giant lawn of this house. They couldn't get Sam. She's athletic and agile. But I got hit. I got hit lots of times. The poison took a long time to kick in and I fought as long as I could, but I finally had to lay down on the field. The shooting stopped... I guess 'cause they saw I was down, though Sam wasn't. Sam came to my side. I lay there dying. I told Sam to call Mom and get her over here so I could say goodbye. So Mom came... And I said my "I love yous" and my "tell this person this" remarks. And I asked Mom to sing me...a song she used to always sing to us as kids. Mom was too stunned, shocked, whatever, to sing it, so I started it. And my voice got weaker and weaker...

I woke up crying. Oftentimes when I wake up from a dream crying, I can hide it until I'm done. I don't like making a scene for the most part. But this time I couldn't. It was that song that got me. I cried and I kept crying and I woke up Rebecca and I still couldn't stop crying. I couldn't even tell her what had happened for a while. Then I explained the dream to her... Still crying... Not even attempting to laugh it off, like I'll do sometimes. It was awful...

I started to calm down, finally. Rebecca rested her hand on my shoulder and asked me if I wanted to pray. ::half-smile:: I started to say no. I really didn't want to... It was just a dream. What would God care about a little dream? But I knew it wouldn't feel right to Rebecca if we didn't pray, so I changed my mind and said sure. So she prayed for me. I felt better. (But seriously, what does God care about a sad dream I had that made me cry?) I was able to get back to sleep. I resolved to call my mom or my sister or both later. (I haven't done that yet.) But there were other people on my mind that I felt I had to make things right with... I haven't done that yet, either, but I intend to. And then I'll call my mother and my sister.

Ever since the dream I had about having a baby I wasn't even remotely ready to care for, I've made a point to draw some lesson out of dreams that I feel very strongly in. It makes me feel better somehow.

Boy, what a tough night. I can tell you one thing for sure: I never want to have a dream like that again.

-Stephanie

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