A Dream

I had the most curious dream last night.

First, I was visiting a family who was pretty much a merger of two families I know in real life. Violently contentious families (the parents were not kind to their children while raising them). In the dream, the children were still young.

Then I visited a friend whose name is Denise. She lived in a house or an apartment (I'm not sure which; I only saw the inside, as far as I recall). Then I visited my mother, who lived in a house. The inside walls of both places were "exceedingly" white.

I was trying to decide which one to room with, and came up with the idea of all three of us rooming together. Denise was willing, but as I visited my mother, I was pretty sure she wouldn't go for it because Denise was a worse housekeeper than my mother.

While I was visiting my mother, she was washing clothes and/or dishes. It was a curious machine. Apparently, you could open the front and put in dishes or open the top and put in clothing. It was running when a man came. His job was to make sure the machine was running correctly before it was used for the first time. However, my mother had been using this machine for a long time (a month or two, I would guess), and the man was so unacquainted with this machine he was supposed to be an expert on that he didn't even know it was running when he opened its door. Mom had to tell him to close it because the water was about to be poured in (he had opened the dishwasher side).

My mother was explaining to me how the washer was automated/had its own mind so to speak. You put a row of detergent in (They looked like short upside-down test tubes, maybe 2-3 inches wide and 4-5 inches tall, two rows of 6 each, inserted into a board made of ... it looked like plastic, but it wasn't) and the machine would take one tube of detergent each time it ran (but it may not have used the whole beaker of powder in one wash load). A person rarely had to put soap in. I guess it practically put the clothing/dishes in for you.

Both my mother and friend were living in what looked like it could be St. George, Utah. Definitely Utah, and I knew that I had been brought to Utah from Arizona because I had failed in my Arizona life. Basically exiled to the lesser place. I was trying to find a place to live, and in my plan to room with these two people, I was looking for a place for the three of us. I thought of my uncle's apartments, but realized they were long gone. Besides, I wanted a place that was much better than that.

I never became aware of the fact that I was dreaming, but I did become aware of one real life fact: Both of these women are dead. That startled me.

When I woke up and went over the dream, I realized that the homes these two were living in - the walls were more white than any earthly thing could ever be. I also realized that they were both perfectly happy where they were, and I had no right to disrupt that by insisting they move. 

I also wondered about the fact that they are dead. Was it telling me that my time on earth is about done? Have I failed at what I came here for? I'm not ready to die. I haven't done what I believe I need to do to be saved (see the Lord in person, not in a dream, nor simply sensing that He is standing near me), and my children are not all settled in their own place (one they can afford without my input - not that my input is much. I'm rather a beggar at the moment). Were my children settled in homes they can afford, with jobs to keep them there, I would be more willing to go, though I would prefer to know that I have accomplished what I came here to accomplish.

It was a troubling dream, in a way, though both Denise and Mom were very happy where they were and with their lives.

After proofreading this post, it occurred to me that it wasn't my time to go because, if it was, there would have been a house for me. Even the contentious, angry family had a house, so being a failure at life (AZ being life) would not have prevented me from being given a home immediately upon my arrival into the place I was.

If anyone would like to take a shot at interpretation, I would like you to post it (I have to approve posts -too much spam- so don't be discouraged when/if your reply is not immediately visible). Also, Denise is the real name of the real friend. We met 40 years ago. She died around 2000, of cancer. My mother also had cancer, but died of the treatment around 1998.