Home Beckons

I used my kerchief to wipe the sweat off my face, but the back of my shirt was soaked as I leaned against the hot adobe wall. We were sitting side by side in the shade while the afternoon sun beat down on the poor woman sitting against the opposite wall of the compound. She groaned and tried to change positions, but the ropes around her hands and feet kept her pinned down in the dust with no chance of relief. I reminded myself that my only chance of avoiding the same fate was to act relaxed and talk quietly as though nothing were wrong.

Sitting next to me in that Mexican courtyard was El Chapo, drug lord and leader of a huge international crime syndicate. I laughed at his jokes and talked about what we’d have for dinner, hoping that my voice didn’t give away the wild beating of my heart. One last look at the woman on the wall and I woke up.

Yup, it was a dream – not the recurring kind like forgetting my high school locker combo or being abducted (I’ve learned that if I shout out, my husband will save me every time by waking me up). But, it wasn’t the first time I’d traveled far and and wide during my sleeping hours.

One night, my high school friends, Laurie, Kathy, Kay and I attended a business conference in Yemen. The next morning, I had to get a map out to remind myself where exactly in the world Yemen is.

Sometimes, my dreams take place much closer to home. A few years ago, the weathermen predicted tornados in our area. That night, I dreamed that my cousins and I were in their basement waiting to see if a tornado would hit. I looked out the window and saw a huge fireball barreling down the hill toward the house. In a panic we tried to get out of its path as fast as possible. The only trouble was that I chose to hop on the back of a little kid’s tricycle being peddled by my 6’ 3” cousin. I just couldn’t get him to peddle fast enough!

Another night found me at the Arnot Mall in Elmira. In the men’s department of Penney’s I saw my father-in-law, Al (who was 93 at the time), in his pajamas, practicing kickboxing kicks. And then, fast forward as many dreams do, I found myself immediately at the top of the steps in the food court. Rather than taking the escalator to the first floor, I slid down a giant display of women’s’ underwear. At the bottom, the clerk gave me a disapproving look!

A few years ago, I witnessed (in a dream) a young man drive his motorcycle over the bank of the road down past my father’s house on the farm. He was unconscious and hidden from the road. It seemed so real that I drove to Sugar Hill the next morning and searched for him. I didn’t find him, but I couldn’t ignore the dream.

I couldn’t ignore the dream because of another dream I’d had near the same time. In real life, our cat, Mutton, jumped out of the car six miles from home and was lost. Six months later I dreamed he came home. Two days later he came back home in exactly the way I had dreamed it – coming onto our back porch as I walked toward him. Just a coincidence or premonition? I’m not sure, but just in case I’m glad that El Chapo is serving a life sentence plus 30 years!