|Another Prison Dream|
|Written by Carol Oschmann|
Carol Oschmann is author of "Prison Dreams" and "God Speaks In Dreams: Connect With Him and Each Other", lecturer and dream group leader.In a room of about twenty inmates, one (she looked to be about 25) stood to tell her dream. I wrote the key words on the board; one, so we’d all remember and two, so we could examine closely each word. “I dreamed my boy friend was laying in a morgue and they called me in to identify his body. I walked into a room of metal drawers on one wall. One was pulled out and a body lay covered by a sheet. The attendant pulled back the sheet. Yes, that’s him, I said. His mother was in the corner crying and shouting, a little crazy like I suppose a mother would do. I turned and began to walk out. I gave in to an impulse and reached out and opened another drawer. In it was a young baby sitting up and playing with her hands. I left. Curious about the baby, I went back in and saw my boyfriend alive, playing with the baby.”
“Don’t tell me I’m going to get back together with him and have a baby!” she pleaded. “We’ll take each image, one by one. First of all, you are all people and all things in the dream. You are the morgue room. Give us three personality traits of your boyfriend.” She described him as mean, crazy and loving. When asked if these traits were part of her also she replied yes. We pointed out that the mother, also a part of her, was also acting crazy. We asked what she needed this male person in her life for and she replied, to support her, earn a living for her; but he didn’t. He got her into trouble.
This part of you is dead. The mean person who knew no way to earn a living is dead. “You have no idea how to earn a living do you? To which she reported no. There were many other drawers to her personality she had not opened and they were possibly good surprises.
The baby is a new life, a new opportunity, something you already know because the baby is a few months old. Perhaps it is something you do for fun. All the other women in the room erupted with shouts of her singing, her music. I advised her to keep music in her life, volunteer to help senior citizens sing, sing in a church. She could open a new drawer in life as she did in her dream. It was her two hands opening that drawer. We went back to the crazy mother and suggested she find a way to nurture someone else, like most mothers do.
The Chaplain said that lives were changed that night.