Incubated Dream of the Giant’s Return

The incubated dream sequence I’m about to share came immediately after I called in my protectors, sat in rather visionary meditation for 90 minutes, and ritually wrote out my question – or rather questions, because I really didn’t clarify the underlying one question as much as I should have (it was late, and I needed sleep). I’m not going to share the questions, for they are too personal. But I will share the answer I received. I may evaluate the dream in a separate post, later; first I just want to record it.

Hypnagogic Vision of a Ghost’s Trying to Reach Me

Upon turning out my lamp on the nightstand, I reclined and felt buzzy and super-alert from the meditation I had just finished. I saw on the ceiling a big set of concentric circles: light core, dark donut, light outer rim. Then that image suddenly vanished, and on the ceiling I saw shadows that looked like a ladder. This new image made me think of Jacob’s ladder, a connection between heaven and Earth. I prayed again for the dream and placed my written questions under my pillow.

Then I drifted into a short hypnagogic vision as follows.

I see a corner of a room in a home. In the corner I see a small child’s stool, a three-legged stool. Above the stool is a window. It is open. Sun is shining in, and some curtains are gently swelling out and in from a light breeze. It is like the breath in meditation. The stool is familiar. It is identical to one that a family photographer had me sit on when I was a child. He had me in sit in profile, looking down into a baby-doll’s glass eyes. I was made to sit in profile on that stool because I was born with crossed eyes, something I suffered cruelty, rejection, and shame for throughout childhood. No parents want a portrait of a flawed daughter. No schoolmate will befriend a child wearing an eye-patch. The stool looks inviting. I begin walking toward it, intending to sit on it and gaze at the light outside the window. When I’m almost at the stool, suddenly a man’s translucent ghost-white hand and forearm bursts through the seat, grabbing at the air and light. It is a portal of some kind, with someone trying to literally reach me.

I jolted out of the vision, shocked awake. I found myself in bed. I was not afraid and didn’t feel as if I had suffered a nightmare. I was just fascinated. I vowed not to forget the dream and fell back asleep.

Toward morning, I had the dream that follows. It featured the exact same giant that appeared in my earlier dream, “Dream of the Mired Giant.”

The Dream of the Giant and the Storehouse 

Historic Durham Tobacco District Today

 I am in what seems to be the Tobacco Warehouse district of Durham, North Carolina, during an earlier era when the warehouses did in fact store tobacco and industrial machinery (see next post for a vintage picture of the district, here shown in its contemporary form). I’m a girl and running from warehouse to warehouse, hiding under a table, then running again, then hiding behind a shelf, and so on. It is a game. I’m playing hide-and-seek. I keep looking behind me to see if my friend is following me, looking for me, but I don’t see him. I feel he is there, though, somewhere in the district, perhaps on a sniper’s perch of a high window, secretly staring down at me. I feel his presence even though he remains invisible and silent as I look up and scan all the windows for a sign of him. Because I can’t see whether he is following me, I grow tired of hiding and curious. I the turn tables, so to speak, and start looking for him. I make him “it.” So I’m the seeker, and now he is the hider. Suddenly,in a blind alleyway, I stop cold with the realization that he’s been the hider all along, never revealing himself; I also realize that we are both nonetheless seeking each other, that we’ve been playing this game for eons.

I pause from playing the game, leave behind all the rust-covered machinery, and drift into a diner. My husband Kurt is there, about 27 years old, eating cherry pie. I sit beside him on a counter stool. A third person sits down beside me on the other side. I say to Kurt, “I think someone is following me, and I know who it is but he won’t show himself.” Kurt says, “Yep – same old same old.” I say, “I’m not sure whether I’m safe.” Kurt says, “He can’t do anything to you.”

Suddenly, I’m in a vehicle, stopped before a storehouse door that won’t open. Kurt and our son are in the car too. Out of the left corner of my eye, I see a runaway train barreling toward me. Kurt and Kerry bolt and scream at me to do likewise. But I stand my ground, trying to bust down the storehouse door with my car. 

The train is about to collide with my car, surely killing me, when suddenly the Giant from my other dream appears, towering over me. He picks up my car like it is a toy, saving me from being hit by the train. He slams his fist through the storehouse door, revealing a conveyor belt moving more deeply into the building, away from the door.

I’m out of the car now, and the giant is trying to pick me up. 

I’m screaming, “No! Don’t leave my friend behind! Save him too!” 

Then I wonder whether the giant won’t save my friend because the friend is the one who is driving the train, trying to destroy me. So I ask the giant, “Am I in danger from my friend?” 

The giant says, “No. No matter what you do or don’t do, nothing can harm you. You can play this game as much as you want, for eons if you want – or not.” 

Then the giant places me on the conveyor where I’m conveyed away to darkness and safety, still screaming, “Save him! Save him too! Don’t leave him behind, please, or I’ll have to come back and start all over again!” 

The giant says,”Not this time, sweetheart; maybe next time.”

My dream evaluation is in the next post, “Unpacking a Dream of Conveyance”:


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