I am now 22 years old. I have been in the US Navy for three and a half years. This is has been the biggest growth period of my life and I doubt it is over. I just got back from my fifth deployment on the USS Florida and there are several things I could talk about but I am just going to start using this as kind of a dream journal.
Yesterday, I don't remember specific details, but I dreamt that I was in some house, in the garage, I remember a child's bicycle. I don't know if I was riding it or it was someone else's, but it was there, leaning against the big, white, 15 passenger van sitting in the garage. There was a young girl in the garage with me, I don't remember why she was there or who she was, but she was there, and I knew she was frightened. My mother stood out in the driveway. She was mad about something I don't remember what. She was yelling at me about something, so angry.... The little girl was so frightened and I was so broken and upset and just felt so torn down by my what my mother was yelling at me about. She was tearing me down, battering me with words I had never in actual life heard her tell me. She was telling me I was worthless, slow, stupid, will never measure up to her expectations, etc. I don't remember specifics, but I woke up in a panic. My heart was racing, sweat was on my face, and my breathing was out of control by the time I was able to force myself awake and out of this nightmare.
This last night, it was a little bit more unrealistic, but still horrible none the less. I dreamt my dad, mom, little brother Joshua, and myself were in a dark and eerie house. We were standing on a massive stairwell, it went up, left, and up another flight. Where it turned there was a small platform where two doors were placed in the wall on either side of the stair well with rooms going off to either side. The doors were shut. Joshua was hurt and unconscious and I had him on my back like a piggy back ride, trying desperately to get him up the stairs and out of the house. Something was wrong with the house. Something was there and it made my skin crawl and tears leak from my eyes with fear. As we were passing the doors to go up the stairs, the door on the one side starts shaking, like someone is trying to beat it down and shake it from its hinges from the other side. I start crying even harder, uncontrollably, and my mom and dad just stand there, seemingly stupid or mute or petrified with fear. Neither of them knew what to do or how to act. On top of all of this, for some reason our journey up the stairs stopped. We were, for some unknown reason, stuck on this dark stairwell with barely enough light to see by. In our panic, I hardly notice some boy appear behind me. He looks exactly like Joshua. Somehow I know what will happen. This little boy is going to absorb my small and helpless brother I am still trying to keep on my back. I lay on the floor, Joshua pinned beneath me as I struggle to keep the other boy away from him, but all it takes is one touch and I can feel Joshua start to evaporate right out from under me. The other boy, I can't see his face straight, is contorted somehow, and I know he is not of this earth. Joshua starts to disappear and I start realizing this is a dream. I try so hard to wake up, and I panicking. I wake up, barely, and think I see a young boy in my room I live in in the barracks, my heart beat continues to pick up speed, as though it were possible for it to beat any faster. I slowly come out of my haze and realize there is no boy in my room. Just a shadow of my robe hanging by my door. My heart continues to race for several more minutes. I am afraid to go back to sleep. Eventually, though, I am able to calm enough to fall back into a fitful sleep, not staying down long enough to dream.
I don't know why we have dreams like these. It seems mine occur more frequently the more anxious I get. I don't know why I am so anxious at seemingly random times in life, but I am going to start putting my dreams here for my own record I guess.
