Saturday, August 15, 2015

Kidnapped and Held Prisoner

In this dream one of my daughters was renewing her wedding vows. Funny how things seem so “natural” in dreams. If she had told me she was renewing her vows in “real life” I would have been curious as to why she was renewing them since she hasn’t been married for two years yet. 

As I walked down the aisle (from the front of the enormous hall), I noticed that nobody had left me a seat, so I had to find one for myself in the back. The hall looked similar to either a very large college cafeteria room where tables were replaced with pews, or a very large but non-churchy church. 

By the time I got to my seat I remembered that I had forgotten my camera, so I ran to get it and hoped to return in time to get some great pictures.

That was when I was kidnapped and brought to a basement of what I thought might be an abandoned building, though it likely could have been the same building where the wedding and reception were taking place. I remember other people being around when I was kidnapped, almost as if they were part of a group being led by a travel guide, but I was afraid to let others know that the man who kidnapped me wasn’t my boyfriend or husband, and I was afraid to draw attention to myself by telling somebody I was being kidnapped.

Days and days, weeks and weeks, months and month went by. I don’t remember eating or sleeping during that time, but I must have slept, because one day I awoke to find another woman with us, kidnapped by the same man who kidnapped me years earlier. 

At least it seemed like years. And now he’d brought another woman into the cemented walls and floors, but I couldn’t talk to her, because I knew he would hear me. And then one day, shortly after she arrived, an elevator dropped in front of us. A well-dressed woman wearing a business suit came out of it and suddenly lots of people appeared from all around us holding an assortment of weapons to rescue the other woman and me. 

Though I was grateful to have been rescued, I berated myself for not coming up with a plan to escape before all those years went by.


This dream at first was difficult to decipher, but when I realized that basements always have to do with our subconscious, and knowing how I’d felt trapped by my own feelings about a matter that has bothered me for years and years and years, I realized that I would have to be the woman in the elevator who came down to rescue myself and maybe by rescuing me I could rescue at least one other person, if she or he existed, who might have experienced the same devastation I did, though so far I appear to be the only one who has suffered from this problem.


In an unrelated dream, I awoke one morning to a dream about a woman named Darla, who went by the name, Sugar Cube. (I can’t even begin to understand where that dream came from, though I have to admit, I Googled, “Darla” and “Sugar Cube” to see if anything showed up. Guess what – a band by the name of Porcelain And The Tramps sang a song called, Sugar Cube and the video was posted on YouTube by someone named darlaarsinoe. Coincidence? Or, as the title of this blog indicates, just weird?

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