The following is an actual dream included in my dream journal, and does not describe actual facts
Dream of:03 March 1995 "Pictures In A Bible"
As my father and I walked along a gravel road in a hilly wooded area, I gradually realized we were accompanied by several of my relatives who were no longer living. I specifically was aware of my mother's mother Leacy and my father's father Cole. When we happened upon a large old cemetery beside the road and strolled into it, I was charmed by the multitude of white gravestones thickly set together over the green earth. It occurred to me that few people ever visited this remote place; if I had a metal detector, this would be a good place to hunt for treasure; I sensed that Leacy agreed with me.
As my father and my deceased relatives walked through the cemetery with me, I had an image in my mind of a picture I had once seen of Cole. In the picture he had been standing on the edge of a cemetery next to a distinctive gravestone in the shape of a rectangle about two meters tall and about 60 centimeters wide. This gravestone hadn't looked look like the other gravestones: it had no writing on it, and more than anything, it had looked like a large piece of flint. I realized Cole was now trying to find the place in this cemetery where that picture had been taken. Looking around I suddenly saw the spot. Instead of the large flint gravestone, however, there was now the rock face of a hill which abutted the cemetery. Disconcerted by the difference in my memory and the actual scene before me, I beckoned the others to come and look. My father, however, indicated that it was time to go, and without further ado, he headed back down the road.
When I turned back around, I was no longer in the cemetery, but in the vestibule of a church, which (I thought), like the cemetery, had been abandoned. I now remembered having earlier heard someone in the group mention that a Bible containing some old pictures had been in the church. Seeing a closet near me, I looked inside and was surprised to see some old books lying on the floor in the back of the closet.
I pulled out one large book which was falling apart, ran to the door of the church and called out to my father and the others about what I had found. But they had already left. I was excited by my discovery, but also worried because I didn't want to become separated from my father and the others – I wasn't sure how to find my way out of there.
Returning to the closet, as I put the book back down, I saw what appeared to be a large Bible. Excited, I pulled out the Bible and laid it on a table. This could possibly be the very Bible I had heard of. I thought I might simply take the Bible with me. I opened the first page, uncertain at first of what I saw. I slowly realized that inside the front cover was a picture puzzle with about half the pieces missing. Some of the pieces had even fallen out on the table when I had opened the cover. From what was left, I slowly realized the puzzle depicted the virgin Mary. The picture was richly detailed and obviously an exquisite find, even if it were incomplete.
Almost imperceptibly at first, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that a boy (probably in his early teens) had appeared inside the door of the church. He was dressed in a religious outfit, with a pale frock and a red skirt. I didn't acknowledge his presence, but his presence informed me that the church was still in use, and that I wouldn't be able to take the Bible with me.
As I continued looking at the Bible, I came to what appeared to be a genealogy table with small round pictures of the people in the genealogy. I thought these might be my ancestors, but I didn't recognize any pictures or any names. I also didn't see the picture of my father's father, Cole, in the cemetery. However I realized that the genealogy table was a find of importance.
Hearing something near the boy, I looked up and saw a man approaching me. He was also dressed in a church outfit, different from the boys, with predominately gold and silver colors. He was probably in his mid 30s, tall and thin, and had a short beard and mustache. He walked up to me, addressed me by name, and asked me if I had been doing any folk dancing lately.
I was rather taken aback by his question. He obviously knew me, but I couldn't place him. As he continued talking, I gathered that he taught folk dancing, and that I had once folk danced with him. I had indeed folk danced years ago, but I told him I hadn't done any folk dancing for a long time. He almost seemed obsessed by the subject, and he asked me to tell him how many dances I thought he had done. When I told him I had no idea, he said he had done one hundred and eighty-something folk dances.
I didn't care much for the man; but I told him I might be moving back to the area, which vaguely seemed to be in a hilly region of Kentucky. I didn't want to tell him I might start coming to his church, even though I thought to myself that I might like to start folk dancing again.
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