I have a very vivid imagination, so every dream I have is super realistic, and that's not always a good thing.
I usually do a lot of stressful work in my dreams, and in dream land, people aren't as helpful or even as prominent as in the real world.
It's generally a dark atmosphere, and weather isn't a factor, often. The stress level I feel during my waking days gets translated into my dreams.
I have died quite a few times in my dreams, and last night brought yet another death of myself I'd never experienced before.
I have worked at a few AFC (Adult Foster Care) homes in the past. These are houses set up with several rooms for anyone over the age of 18 with mental or physical disabilities that require assistance during the day. They are people who just need extra care their families can't provide during an undetermined time frame. Some eventually move out and get a place of their own. Some find new people to care for them, while others are longer term care.
Anyway, in March I had to resign from my latest AFC position. I was an overnight worker. I had to bake desserts, breads and prep some meals for the next days in the week. I also deep cleaned the house while everyone "slept".
In my nightmare last night, I returned to work there. Everyone was very happy to see me, again. My manager greeted me with open arms, and we, both took a nap in the living room before we had to start the daily routines.
After waking, she passed meds, and I just buddied up with clients assisting them with getting their mornings going. Everyone had to use the two bathrooms, it seemed, at the same time. I stood with a blind lady to make sure she got her turn to use the bathroom second in line, so she wouldn't have an accident. In my dream she spoke telepathically to me, but I had no clue how to respond, so I moved her hands and spoke to try to convey my thoughts. It was neat to be able to hear her in my head, because in reality, she can't form words.
I had taken a walk outside with one male client listening to his story. We rounded the corner to come back to the house when we saw two burglars run out of a house and rummage through a car. They spotted us, and one raised a rifle to my forehead. There was a bench behind me. I tapped the barrel of the gun away from my head, because I noticed the gunman was shaky, and I didn't believe he'd fire. The client and I sat down on the bench, because we were scared to run. The end of the gun was down at waist level between us. It was smoking, so I thought there was a problem with the ammo. I looked at the gunman, and he was tearing up. I thought he felt worried that his gun didn't work. I told the client we needed to get back home. We hurried inside. My manager was taking a shower, and soup was being made on the stove. I finished cooking it, and dinner was served family style.
Everyone was complimenting the food and talking to me as they either took care of their dishes or got seconds. One client wouldn't look at me, and had a hard time speaking to me. I asked him, "Why won't you look at me?" He told me, "You're broken."
I felt my forehead, but I couldn't find the break. I realized he was telling me I'd been shot. I quickly left the house, because I didn't want to disturb anyone else. My old cat, Clifford was outside, and he was taller than real life. He came up to me and let me pet him. Then, he helped another cat hunt birds in a bush.
As I walked slowly around to digest the new knowledge, I kept clearing my throat and coughing up mucus. I thought if I was dead, maybe that was the feeling of being incubated. So, I tried screaming my own name to try waking myself up. Nothing happened. I started crying, because I was scared to get trapped in this realm of limbo.
I screamed my manager's name in case I was still on the fateful bench. Finally, I awoke in my actual bed. The power had gone out, and I was hot under a sleeping bag. I was still scared it wasn't real until I pushed my covers off and heard birds chirping and everything that reminded me of reality.
This brain of mine is such a scary place.
