My Blog‎ > ‎

Freedom Morning

posted Mar 20, 2013, 5:23 AM by Suzette Vearnon   [ updated Mar 20, 2013, 6:15 AM ]
While asleep last night, I dreamed that my boyfriend and I stopped at a convenience store.  He ran in and I noticed a group of Caucasian people standing in the distance behind my car.  I don't know the exact time but it was dusk.  As I sat, waiting for my boyfriend who had gotten the munchies and was running inside for snacks, a bad feeling came over me.  I heard a whisper inside of me in the form of an inkling that the people might push my car over.  With alarm, I looked towards the doors of the convenience store in hopes that I could signal my boyfriend or text him with my cell phone but it wasn't soon enough.  Sitting behind the wheel of the car, I felt the car jolt and rock as the group comprised of both men and women pushed my car over.  
I was terrified.  

Then the rocking stopped and the car was back upright.  I dared not get out of the car.   I looked around to laughing faces and watched helplessly as they took out what looked like small rifles and began to shoot my tires.  One by one, they shot at them.  Shaken, I turned around and saw my boyfriend approaching the car.   He had not witnessed anything and didn't notice there was anything different.  Gingerly, he got into the car.  Upset, I jumped out and approached the group.  Screaming, I told them to look at what they had done.  Some walked away without a care and I was left with a lady with brunette hair.  I asked her why.  Why they would do such a thing.  How they could do that to another person. I told them I was one of God's children too.  After a while, it felt like I was talking and pleading to a brick wall.  She felt justified and argued back at me.  

There it was again.  That torturous theme that wakes me up crying and in so much emotional pain.  Trying to talk to someone and they refuse to listen to me.  I don't know what happened in my child hood that was so traumatic that I have this recurring dream.  Nevertheless, when I opened my eyes, I realized I was lying in my warm comfy bed and the sunlight was peeking through my windows.  I knew I was safe.  What was that dream all about?, I pondered.  I  hadn't watched anything on TV that even came close.  It wasn't like my watching Lord of the Rings a few nights before.  Neither had I eaten pork while watching only to be scared by the face of the Dark Lord in my dreams.  Talk about funny. It wasn't like that at all.  

Normally, when I have dreams where I'm pleading to be heard and folks, for whatever reason, turn a deaf ear, it arouses a great deal of pain.  Last night's dream was alarming as it always is.  This time, however, I didn't awaken with that same sobbing and whimpering.  Maybe it is because I feel I am finally being heard.  I am writing words that are touching the hearts of people.  I am sharing my story and sharing my perspective on life, love and spirituality in articles, both online and in print, as well as launching my first book, THE SOUND OF MY LIFE.  Maybe that haunting dream of a caged voice is giving way to a freedom morning.
Comments