Why is it that I find my dream so terrifying? When I examine the dream in the light of day, there is an ominous quality that causes me to tremble. And yet, when I try to recreate the emotions I always experience during the dream, I find I am serene, watchfully serene.
Nevertheless, when I think of the dream, or try to relive it, I feel tears falling. I am not crying. There are no sobs. The tears seem to fall purely of their own volition. The tears fall and my heart beats faster.
The tears are falling now as I write this. What is it? Perhaps if I write it all down I can determine the meaning of the dream or explore its significance. The dream comes when I least expect it. Sometimes I think it is gone for good, then it returns. It came again last night.
It starts in the town of my childhood, usually at the corner where our town's four-block Main Street is intersected by the state highway. I am standing on the corner looking, looking... at the red brick high school on my left toward home, then at the rest of Main Street on my right. There are a few houses, but there are many more flat brick or stucco buildings that make up the business section.
Another way the dream can begin shows me walking toward home. If it begins here, I know I have "come in, in the middle." As I walk toward our house, I realize that I am carrying something under my arm. A loaf of bread? I carried many things down that street.
The dream can begin a third way, with me inside our house looking out the front-door glass toward Main Street. My fingers touch the thick, plum-colored paint on the frame around the old door.