Psychic Dreams

Sure, this is not The Dream Dimension blog anymore, but I just love talking about dreams. I don’t know what’s going on, whether it has something to do with getting older changing my brain chemistry, or if it’s just one of those things that could never be explained. For some weird reason, my intuition has been getting a lot sharper lately, and my dreams have been symbolically telling my fortune, for the near future. Christa has read a little about dream psychology. When I told her about my dreams that are not exactly reoccurring, but have reoccurring themes, she told me that it’s not so much what happens in your dreams that have meaning. It’s how you feel, during the dream.  

It’s normal for anyone to have a future premonition in their dreams, every now and then. I used to have them, maybe once every so often. Here are a few I remember very vividly.  

In September of 2004, the very night that I moved in with my long-time boyfriend, Billy, I had a bad dream that he turned into a complete asshole who was impossible to live with. This was not a master psychic prediction. I just wanted to deny what was coming. Billy was a self centered, verbally abusive jerk at times, but he wasn’t pure 100% asshole. We had a lot of happy couple moments together. 

a lot of his behavior problems was due to his functional schizophrenia, which means, he was able to hold a job, drive, run aronds, and do all domestic tasks like a normal person. He even had a normal social life. He just had problems with delusional thinking, and he had an annoying habit of speaking in metaphors. He also sometimes brought up memories that never happened, and accused me of things I never did. Why did I date him? I had a shitty self esteem, when I was in my twenties. We had gone through ups and downs for four years. It was dysfunctional, but at that age, I wanted to believe in the whole soul mate thing. I was excited about moving clear across the country, to Hackensack New Jersey, with him. It was a new adventure. We were finally going to live together, and start our life together, without his clingy, controlling mom coming between us. She was not 100% pure asshole either. There were times when I enjoyed her company more than Billy’s, but I was relieved that she decided to stay back in Florida, and move in with Billy’s brother. 

Then low and behold, my dream was right. I learned the hard way that, the only reason why we stayed together for four years, was because we weren’t living together. After only a week of living with him, I couldn’t wait to get the hell back to Florida. 

In February of 2007, I had a dream about another ex boyfriend, named, Luis. He was in a hospital bed, with IVs and stuff, attached to him. In the dream, I apologized for how I broke up with him, and for being such a bitch. The next day, when mom answered the phone, it was Luis. He and I hadn’t spoken for almost two months, so this was a surprise. He was in the hospital, calling from his hospital bed. The parents and I were shocked to find out that he had cancer. Like in the dream, I apologized for all that I had put him through. I was so glad to have had the chance to make amends with him, before he passed away, the following July. 

In the summer of 2008, when I was getting enrolled into community College, I had all kinds of zany, but negative dreams that warned me that College wasn’t the right choice for me. Sure enough, my attempt at community College was a disastrous failure. Mainly because my neurological disability made it impossible to get assignments done, in a sensory overstimulating classroom. It was the same reason why I was a C student, all through school. I just had the hope that maybe being older and more mature would somehow improve this problem. 

A year or so later, I had dreams that Gina had a brightly glowing flower growing out of her belly button. I came to the conclusion that this symbolized pregnancy. Then, in 2012, she gave birth to my adorable nephew, Jaden, who is also our parents’ one and only grandchild. What’s funny about this is, he’s a very bright kid, with an IQ of 160. And he always had this thing with belly buttons. 

Another one that spooked me as much as the Luis dream, was a few dreams about my old friend from high school, Kate. I don’t remember precisely what year I had these dreams, maybe 2010, or 2011-ish. At the time, Kate and I had lost touch, back in 1998. In the dreams, we got back in touch again, but our reunion was short. We soon discovered how different we were, compared to when we were inseparable 9th grade BFFs. Then our relationship always went cold. These dreams always ended with me feeling crappy about the situation, and wanting to make things right with her, and hang on to our old friendship. So  I would go to her house, but then find out that Kate had turned into a lifeless, warn out, ventriloquist dummy.  

In October of 2013, Kate and I really did get back in touch. But our reunion ended coldly, in January of 2015. We got into a disagreement on FaceBook, and the claws came out. I would say neither of us was right, but she thought I was an immature psycho. She too had cancer, and she didn’t want the last few months of her life to include immature psycho bullshit. So she unfriended me, and cut me out of her life. 

A month later, I found out, through another friend, that her coldness had turned to compassion. Here she was, near death from stage-4 cancer, and she was praying for me. This was four years ago, but I’m getting choked up as I type this. I was deeply moved, and wanted to make things right with her, but I lost her phone number, when I changed phones. My friend tried, several times, to give me her number, but all these glitchy things kept happening between his Android, and my I-phone. Then she died, in May. So it was too late for any apologies or good-byes. Up until then, I didn’t realize that the dreams about Kate turning into a inanimate puppet were  symbolic premonitions. 


Within the past few months, I’ve been getting symbolic dream premonitions, almost back to back. Once the foreseen real life situation happens, my sub conscience moves on to the next near-future situation to warn, or reassure me about. 

In February, I had dreams that had to do with going through a situation that terrifies me, and seems like it would be impossible to get through. Then miraculously, I get through it, and everything works out, in the end. 

A few examples: 

I dreamt that the family and I were traveling by jet, somewhere. We were all getting comfortable in our seats, when a flight attendant came up to me, and said that the plane was too crowded. So I had to be moved to an outside seat, on the wing. I know that this situation would be totally impossible, in real life, but anything could happen in a dream. 

Mom and Gina were already sitting on the wing, when the flight attendant escorted me to my seat. But there was no seats, and no seat belts either. A bright red railing, that barely went up to my knees, went around the edges of the wing. This was all us wing passengers had to hold onto. While I was scared as hell, mom and Gina acted like this was a perfectly safe way to travel. They were sitting on either side of the wing, with their backs against the railing, happily blabbing about healthy dinner recipes. I was seated next to mom, with my back against the railing too. 

As the plane was taking off, I turned around, wrapped my arms and legs around the railing, and held on as tight as I could. The lifting off feeling was so realistic, and so was that funny thing gravity does to your mind, when you look down from a dangerous height. I gripped tighter, with all four limbs, and pinned my arms in place, with my head. I had never been so scared, on a dream plane ride before. Meanwhile, mom and Gina were still as relaxed as yoga instructors, as they talked about the beautiful view below. I looked down, but my vision blurred, and the view looked like greenish-brown fuzz. I felt so helplessly vulnerable, surrounded by 30,000 feet of open air. This flight was going to be two hours long. I wondered how I was going to get through it, or if. The plane picked up speed. I tensed my whole body up, and clung to the railing, for dear life. Then I felt my arms and legs getting clammy. I was so terrified, I wanted to cry. 

Then the attendant came back out, and decided to let me have my original seat back. As I took his arm, I suddenly was able to walk along the wing, with super-human balance. Then I was back in the comfort and safety of flying the normal way. I was SO happy.  

In another dream, the family and I were somewhere in New York city, and we were taking a GrayHound bus back to Florida. The bus wasn’t going to be there, for another few hours, so we had plenty of time to wander around. The GrayHound station was part of a ridiculously huge building that had a mall, several dozen bars, and all kinds of other noisy, crowded places. There was even a quiet room, far away from the human traffic congestion. Dad took me there, and promised that he’ll come back for me, in a few hours. 

This quiet room had soft lighting, and was more like a study room. There was desks and chairs all around, complimentary computers, and even some familiar visual aide equipment. I had my Mac Book with me. So I parked at a desk, and got to writing. This was the perfect time to work on my book, because the quiet room was empty. Then some other lady came in, who seemed even nerdier than me, and disturbed my peace. She put on an irritating educational musical about DNA, on her I-pad, and didn’t use headphones. I was really annoyed, but I’d rather not get into confrontations with total strangers. Especially not in New York city. So I soldiered on with wrestling with my brittle sense of focus, one typed word at a time. 

Dad came back, but it wasn’t time to get to the bus yet. He and mom had realized that we were in the wrong building. Our bus was scheduled at another GrayHound station, in a building that was across this 30-lane, death trap highway. So I took his arm, and we headed out with the rest of our party. Before crossing the 30-lane death trap, we first had to walk across a parking lot that seemed to go on for eternity. It suddenly started raining. Then my right sneaker shredded to pieces, all by itself, and so did my sock. The family didn’t want me to walk the rest of the way, with one bare foot. So we went back to the building we came from, and went to the mall. Our bus was leaving at 6:00 PM, but once we were in the mall, we realized that we hadn’t been keeping track of the time, as good as we thought. It was 5:30 already. We had only a half hour to help me pick out a new pair of sneakers, and then hurry to the other building. The mall was a chaotic confusion of stores upon stores, and millions of people. Luckily, the first store we walked in had the right pair of sneakers for me. As I bought them, waiting in the check out line, and paying for them, was unnaturally sped up. Like God hit the Fast forward button. Now that I had new shoes on, it was time for us to hall ass, but then it hit me, “Oh, shit! Stupid me left my Mac Book in that quiet room!” 

The quiet room was on another floor, far off in a different wing of the building. Luckily, we didn’t have to hurry there ourselves. Some kindly force of nature tele transported us there. But once we were there, my computer was gone. I was crushed. I hated myself for being so flaky. I was so anxious for us to get to the correct GrayHound station, that I hurried away without my best friend. Mom, dad, and my sisters told me to wait right there. They were going to check if this place had a lost&found. The quiet room was empty again. So I took this opportunity to search every inch of it. Hoping that maybe somebody just moved it somewhere, but it was nowhere in sight. 

I was about to cry, but then dad came in to tell me the great news. We were at the correct building, after all. There was a minor communication mix-up, and my computer wasn’t lost or stolen. The luggage handler guy found it, and packed it in my suitcase. I don’t know where our luggage had been, through that whole dream, but now it was safely loaded into our bus’s luggage compartment. The bus driver needed to take a break. So we weren’t going to be leaving for another twenty minutes. This gave us plenty of time to take any last minute bathroom breaks, before the trip. Everything worked out in the end. I felt that same strong, thankful, happy, relieved feeling, as I did at the end of the jet dream. 

Then I dreamt that I was a little girl, but a completely different character, in a completely different family. I was the only child too, which felt odd. We were visiting relatives, but staying at a hotel. Our visit was long enough to go past my bed time. So I slept in a spare bed that was in a hallway, for some dream nonsense reason. These different parents of mine were finally ready to leave, sometime after mid night. 

On our way to the hotel, my parents got lost. We drove all around this unnamed city, until 3:00 AM. I was too anxious to sleep through the drive. Then dad discovered a different rout to our hotel, but it went through a rough neighborhood. We were in the slummiest of slums. Dilapidated shacks were cramped together, in clusters, on each block, and they all had the same flimsy looking front steps. There were no yards, just bare dirt. Garbage, and all kinds of other filth, was strewn everywhere. No lights were on, in any of the shacks, but this neighborhood was all lit up with bright white streetlights. The thing that frightened me the most about this neighborhood, was that it was full of angry kids. 

These kids were all between the ages of eleven and fourteen, and of different races and ethnicities, but they all had the same tough, mean spirited attitude. They were all running a muck on the streets, cussing, trash talking each other, and beating each other up. I was so scared of them. I sank down into the back seat, where I would be below the windows, and stayed still and quiet. What made it even more scary was that, because these kids kept going in the streets, my dad had to drive through this hell-on-Earth very slowly. And for some reason, my parents wanted to keep all the car windows open. I feared that, at any moment, these nasty kids were going to jump onto our car, and come in through the windows, and attack us. Or they might throw trash, and hawk loogies into our car. Then I heard one angry boy scream murder accusations at another boy, and now I was in fear for our lives. 

It was disturbing to see so many kids out on the streets, unsupervised, at 3:00 in the morning. Something told me that their parents, and none of the other grownups in their lives, ever gave a damn about them. And that they acted tough and mean spirited, because they believed it was the best way to survive. Then my fear turned to compassion. I also realized that the kids never even noticed us, even though we were the only car driving through their neighborhood. It was like we were invisible to them. Or as if this brightly lit slum was only a figment of ghostly residual energy.  In the end, we made it safely to our hotel. And my heart was once again, full of thankful, happy relief. 


I believe that those dreams had to do with my anxiety about babysitting. On the same weekend my parents had plans to go to St. Pete, to help nannie out with house repairs, Gina had to do a house call massage. Carlos was going to be in Daytona. So I promised Gina that I would look after Jaden. I promised Jaden too. While the rest of the family tended to our garage sale, Jaden and I had fun, hanging out in my room. We watched Tiny House Nation, and talked about Minecraft. He also had fun going on my Elliptical Trainer, and then jumping off, and belly flopping onto my bed.  Jaden has been in our lives, for six years, but this was the first time he and I had an hour or two of aunt and nephew quality time. It made a good impression on him, and he actually requested that I would babysit him. I was very flattered, but terrified. 

The last time I babysat was almost 20 years ago. Lucky for me, it was a very well behaved, eleven-year-old girl. She was content with watching Rug Rats cartoons, and doing arts and crafts stuff. At the time, I had enough eyesight to enjoy these things with her. She went to bed, at her own bed time, and she even cleaned up after her dogs, when they had diarrhea accidents. It was the easiest $20 I had ever made. 

Twenty years later, I was set to babysit a high-energy, six-year-old boy with a fickle attention span. Toys and fun activities only hold his interest, ten or fifteen minutes at a time, and I was to keep him entertained for four hours. On top of all that, all the things he likes to do are visual, which are things I would suck at. There’s only so much Tiny House Nation, Minecraft discussions, and Elliptical stunts that he could do, before being miserably bored. I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to keep the fun going, and he would regret choosing me for a babysitter. I pictured him crying, and wanting me to call his mommy. I was also anxious about being fully responsible for a wild child, when I can’t see. I thought about, what if he gets into something, and gets cut or injured. What if he trips and falls, and cracks his head open. What if he loses his footing on my hard, wooden stairs. Would I know how to do the himelick maneuver correctly, if he chokes on his lunch? All these worries, and many more kept ruminating in my brain. 

Then when babysitting day came, everything worked out surprisingly great. After he had his fill of Tiny House Nation, and the Elliptical, we made homemade play dough, played Battleship, and then I showed him my Tap Tap See audio descriptive camera, on my phone. The thing was out of order, and it kept describing things that were nothing like the things I was taking pictures of. When Jaden held up an unused light switch plate, my phone said that it was a men’s black crewneck shirt. When I took a picture of my blue hair, my phone said it was a black and white, floral bed spread. This cracked Jaden up. He wanted me to keep taking pictures, to hear what out-of-wack thing my phone was going to say next. 

When babysitting duty was over, Gina gave me $50, and she helped clean the cornstarch mess me and Jaden made, when we were making the play dough. Like in those dreams, I felt very thankful, happy, and relieved that what seemed impossible, all worked out in the end. After that, I stopped having those Extreme anxiety dreams. Then my sub conscience moved along to the next situation to warn me about.  

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Bia Bella Baker🌋🌪🌊🌩Proud author of the HECCTROSSIPY series

Author of the HECCTROSSIPY Series

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