Grief Recovery Specialist, Writer + Blogger
When I was a little girl, I had a recurring nightmare. It took place on the playground of my elementary school.
I’m talking an intrusive, repetitive dream. Vivid, terrifying. These types of dreams are much more common in adults than children. I know now it was a premonition warning me of coming events. Events not to come to pass for at least 10 years, more like 15. It was so embedded in my soul apparently, or depending on your perspective, angels/the universe so strongly wanted me to be aware of future themes that it was burned into my subconscious – and later conscious – mind. The archetype was of the shadow feminine, the narcissistic authority figure, the bully, the wicked stepmother.
The green-faced Wicked Witch of the West was the most feared figure of my childhood. The Wizard of Oz was one of the movies my mom recorded from TV onto a VHS tape (!!) for me, and oh boy yes did I watch it (among other favorites), over and over and over again. Little did I know at the time how profound and deep all of those movies were, and how relevant to my future journey. Perhaps I did know on some level, possibly explaining my fervent and repeated viewing of these epic tales, including Star Wars, Superman, Back to the Future.
Anyhoo, my nightmare was usually quite short, and not sweet. It featured her majesty the Wicked Witch of the West. I was cornered by the swing set. She was chasing me, her emerald eyes blazing. Before I could catch my breath, I woke up. Over and over and over again, dare I say for years this dream raged on, rearing its ugly head. Startlingly so. Obviously, I was meant to connect the dots later. Much, much later.
*A LONGER, FULL VERSION OF THIS POST WILL APPEAR {AMONG MANY OTHERS} IN MY FORTHCOMING BOOK. STAY TUNED!*
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Photo by Bee Felten-Leidel on Unsplash
