When I don’t feel safe I hide. I hide where no one can find me not even myself.

I had a bad dream and in the dream I was a child, a little girl in a time gone by maybe the late 1800s or early 1900s. I was with an adult, my Mother or a woman who seemed like my mother but I’m not really sure. We were running down the street trying to get away from something, a peril that seemed to be gnawing at our heels.

In the dream there was a child, a young boy who was grabbed by an older man, someone who looked harsh, mean and weathered. He was wearing dark clothes and he abducted the child and took him away. I watched and was silent and the fear began to rise up more.

He was taken to a rooftop and locked in a cupboard in the dark. No light, he couldn’t see and no one could hear him, he couldn’t scream. He was exhausted, struggling, struggling to get out of the prison. “Let me out!” but no one could hear him. Only I could hear his silent screams and I was being rushed away, scurried to a place where I could breathe.

I hold my breath a lot. I can see that he is now in a cage made of a chicken wire like mesh, yet the mesh doesn’t look like its usual grey metallic steel color, instead the mesh had a black PVC coating so it looked black shiny and insidious. The shiny black cage enshrouds him like a cloak and sucks the life out of him. I don’t understand why he is here, Why is he locked up? Who was that old man? Why did he take the child?

I am kept moving, hurry, hurry and I am running. The streets are dark and unfamiliar. I don’t recognize anything or anyone. The person I’m with keeps urging me to move along. Move forward and my legs continue to carry me in a forward direction.

I can’t seem to let go of the young boy that is trapped in the cage and he can’t get out. I feel trapped and smothered. I am locked in a cupboard and I can’t get out. I hear my uncle’s voice and a memory of the big bad boogieman is going to come out and get me comes flying out. I feel sick. Nausea overcomes me. I smell the fear. It is a smell unlike any other. I smell chloroform in a white cloth that is put over my face so I can’t breathe. I am suffocating. I black out. The cupboard is dark and there is no light. I have no idea how long I have been here. An hour, hours, days, weeks, more?

I can’t tell. It all becomes a blur. I can’t speak. My throat has been surgically cut open and nothing comes out, there is no sound. Just a searing pain that’s stuck inside my throat. Hot searing fire that rises like a fever and I black out again.

Memories of dreams being trapped and trying to run and getting nowhere or screaming but nothing coming out come pouring out.

Trapped in an underground tunnel with lots of people moaning, children crying and whimpering the sound is like a cacophony of human excrement and vomit. I am back on the street running again. The sky is a lighter gray. There is no blue only an endless gray like the streets I am running through that look like they are out of a Dickens’ novel come to life.

It all seems disconnected. Fragmented pieces of memory that lay like shards of shattered glass around me. It’s as if each step I take and as I run across a piece of glass another fragment of memory appears. I see images of war and hiding in a bunker with strangers and feeling scared and hugely fearful. The fear is so great that I begin vomiting. My body attempts to purge it out but there is no escaping this.

Bathed in sweat I get up and continue running. Running where? Running anywhere that is safe. Yet I can’t seem to find that place.

I have been that little boy locked in a cupboard left to die and never speak, never get to run and play and express and be like a child.

I have hidden, in the shadows in the dark, too scared to breathe, too scared to be alive, too scared to speak.

I have fought and struggled and made many attempts to get away but somehow the threats and the blows and all the noise drowns me till I have nothing left. I can feel the life ebbing away and dying…

The dream comes back and I’m back in the street hurrying, running. A yellow butterfly comes to me and I reach out my left hand and she comes and lands on my hand. Everything else is in a blue-gray sepia like tone, except the butterfly, which is bright yellow, a buttercup yellow.

She sits on my hand and it seems like she becomes part of me and I begin to see my color and form again. I somehow intuitively recognize and know she is part of me and my salvation. I begin to feel I am coming back to life. I feel like her. Delicate, able to fly, yet I can get easily squashed and damaged. I am light as a feather and make no sound. Yet I can be seen without uttering any words. I am radiant. I bring hope and life and breath back. I see the person that is my Mother in my dream getting too close to my butterfly, she is not even aware that she’s there and I put out my right hand and say, “Stop!”

“Can’t you see my butterfly? You’ll hurt it if you come any closer. Keep away!”

I begin to move again becoming aware that I have to protect my yellow butterfly at all costs. She inherently knows I will keep her safe and she doesn’t fly off. She stays with me. I want her to be with me so badly. I feel bereft. I run away from everyone. I am now running and I am alone and my yellow butterfly stays with me.

She stays with me till I wake up….

A yellow butterfly means new life. Yellow butterflies symbolize hope, intellect, prosperity, love and reincarnation. A yellow butterfly can also depict the re-birth of a child that died young. It is a symbol of the soul.

From the Bible, gold takes on the color of yellow. A yellow butterfly signifies prosperity. It is a symbol of wealth, gold and riches. It also symbolizes “new life”, transformation a metamorphosis, re-birth.




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