Dreamed about 2007/1/25, by "Dreamy"
My long-time best friend Ken and I were both on a waiting list to have our essences moved into new bodies. I wasn't sure why my present body wouldn't do; I felt healthy, and you qualified for a transfer only if you were seriously ill or disabled.
The new body was not of your choosing; it was somehow chosen for you based on your entire life's circumstances: the problems with your present body, how long you'd lived, etc. In practice, no one could predict where you'd end up.
You were also obliged to witness the shutdown of your present body. It was an out-of-body experience, not a death to live through, but you did have to be present as they embalmed your present body. Sounds scary, but it was comforting--gave me a sense of completion, as I watch my own body's veins filling with embalming fluid as it lay on a table. It was peaceful.
I was unable to see who it was performing the changes to each body, or how my essence was moved to my new body, but I felt no stoppping, no starting, nor any downtime--I just somehow became present in my new body, feeling pleased and excited by the possibilities of my new life.
So I found myself in a new body. I was still a woman, but about 20 years younger than I had been, and quite a bit taller. I kept misjudging my height and the general beginnings and endings of my new body; I kept hitting my head on light fixtures at first. But at last I felt "settled in."
I found myself in the most beautiful garden, with colorful blooming plants, trees and bushes, including a large tree with purple, fragrant blossoms hanging down from it. I sat in a chair under the tree, enjoying and the comfort and pleasure of the garden. The sun was out, the birds were singing, the smell of spring was everywhere. It was wonderful.
Then I saw a woman walking toward me, carrying an infant. I hoped she had news of my friend Ken, who should have emerged from his own transition around this time. I was so excited to learn what he'd experienced--Ken and I shared everything, and had for most of our lives. We knew one another down to our souls.
Holding the baby, she told me "This is Ken."
The shock was less intense than you might think. Ken had suffered for years from AIDS--now he'd been given a chance at a new start, from infancy forward. Yet it still shook me. Now I saw that in all our wild-eyed discussions of the possibilities, we'd never anticipated the full risks of transitioning. Our intensely close connection, all our shared memories and experiences, now lay latent in his infant body. It would be a very, very long time before we could be close again. Maybe never. It was an unknown for now. Which would be worse? That he retained his adult knowledge and memories in an infant state, or that they were lost to him for years, perhaps forever?
And not just for him: a loss for us both. Yet a precious gain as well, for Ken at least. His illness would have killed him. I was still trying to put all the ramifications of our transitions into perspective when...
The phone rang. I was dragged back to reality by a business call I had to take (at 7:30 in the morning!!!! Gads!)
The dream overshadowed my whole day, as my psyche tried to put what happened into perspective. Surprisingly, though in a way I'd lost my best and closest friend in the dream, I didn't feel lonely or sad. I felt that patience was needed, and would be for a long long time. I had to face the possibility we'd never regain what we'd lost. Yet I also knew we'd always have our very loving and fun experiences of each other, and the feeling of that. They were not lost. Maybe somewhat detained.
I still felt hopeful that the gains for both of us outweighed the perceived losses. Lots of unknowns, and I was comfortable with that.
This dream clearly sees big spiritual or emotional changes in Dreamy's life, but there's a practical suggestion too: Dreamy felt fine, yet qualified for a procedure offered only to the seriously ill or disabled. Dreamy's unconscious may have detected a health problem the conscious hasn't noticed yet! If such dreams repeat, I'd get a medical checkup just to be on the safe side. You don't want to wait until you have to watch them fill your veins with pickle juice...
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