So, if you want to interpret my dream and tell me what you think it means, you'll have to email me at: jude.stringfellow@gmail.com rather than leave a comment. I've turned off the comments of my blogs for obvious reasons. I'll listen and read all of your comments that are emailed to me, but I don't want the world to see them necessarily. Feel free to let me know your thoughts.
Last night I dreamed and as usual, the dreams were mixed together, they could be separate, they could be combined. I never know. One seems to go into the next. I have more details from one or two than I do the last, but it is what it is. I'll try to recall all I can. Nothing makes sense, but that's the way it is in dreams.
I saw a room where a man and a woman were seated at a small table. They were dressed in costume really, in robes and pretty clothes to mimic the person they were to honor in a few minutes. The man they were going to honor on camera, was a man who was an entertainer. He was at least a great pianist and he may have been a songwriter or more, I don't know. I was (as an outsider) aware that this would be the last thing the man did before his death. He was to be killed there in the room (and I don't know about the others) when an explosion outside the building took place. The explosion was to be an older white Mercedes, perhaps even the entertainer's car.
The man and woman sat down, I was observing, but not there. I could see it happening. She was wearing a genie-type outfit, but she put a green shiny robe/cape around her shoulders. She was in her mid 40's and had dark hair. She wore a sort of crown on her forehead like Woman Woman. It wasn't Wonder Woman, but she resembled Lynda Carter in ways. The man was nondescript and he was older. He had his back to me, I couldn't see much. They had a cake in front of them on a small table and on it was the name of the entertainer and it was something like "Giovanli". The woman was impressed that they had gone "all-out" for it, she laughed thinking it was a bit tacky but fun.
The entertainer, Giovanli, walked into the room through a curtain. They were being filmed. He was being openly polite. He was standing. He had several robes on, and this was the reason the woman had added one to her wardrobe. It was again, to show solidarity for the entertainer. When he turned to sit, I could see he had multiple lightweight robes and I began to count them. He had 17 robes on his body! They were thin, light-weight, and so colorful. It was beyond obvious that his thing was to wear robes and do things with them when he entertained. That much was known to me.
The woman began to talk and it was mundane. I was now aware that I was in the room. I knew there was about to be an explosion, but I was not allowed to talk about it or warn anyone. I began talking to Giovanli and telling him how very impressed I was and how appreciative I was of his work. I decided within myself that his last things to hear shouldn't be empty praise from those who didn't really love and admire him, but out of duty decided to give him a bit of recognition. Who knows, they could have lured him to his demise. That was my other thought process. I "heard" later on that he was injured but did not die. That was good news to me.
As I held Giovanli's hands and talked with him he listened. He was happy to know his work was important to at least one person. I assured him I was not alone in my thinking but knew these people were just paid to do their thing and move forward. They knew of him, but they were not fans and they were not even kind enough to get their facts correct for the presentation. This is what led me to think they were behind the explosion.
I knew I had to leave and I did. I forgot my pink big purse and had to go back. Then I realized I didn't have my keys and had to go back. So annoying!! I was leaving when the explosion happened. It was terribly agonizing, time stood still, it was bright, it was hot, it was loud. I left the building and saw the white Mercedes. I couldn't figure out how the explosion of a car could be so devastating on the building if the car wasn't in or near the building. I looked for my own car. I couldn't find it. I walked the lots, and I went to the other lot. I finally saw my son driving my car. I could see he was "over there" and wearing a red OU baseball cap.
When I saw my son I tried to call him, but my three-inch by three-inch square telephone wouldn't work. Phones never work in dreams. I asked my daughter to call her brother. She tried, and her walnut telephone wasn't working either. Finally, my son caught our eyes and he picked us both up. He was interviewing people to live with him, and I was not sure I wanted to hang out and do that. He was interviewing a man with a wife and two kids. My thought was that he shouldn't have a family move in with him and his wife, but it wasn't my business really to say much about it.
That's when I woke up and I knew there were about 1000 different things to pull apart. There were colors, there were numbers, and there were symbols. I don't know all about dreams, but I do wonder sometimes why we see specific things such as the cake with the name, or the number of robes, or the fact that I had a big, fat, pink, square purse. I don't have one in my waking life. My son does wear a red OU baseball cap, but I assure you my daughter does not use a walnut to call people.
An oddity is normal when we're sleeping and the fact that I didn't wake up until after 10:30 this morning is odd as well -- I never do that. Strange all around. I know the country of IRAN had something to do with the explosion as well, but I have no idea. It could be that I read about one in Syria and I know that the Iranians are hiding their chemical weapons in Damascus - - that's about to get real. No dreams are needed, we have Isaiah 17:1 for that!
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