For the second time in my life I had a dream of being in a pearly white room. When discussing my first experience I was told that based on eastern culture, to dream of being in a white room denotes the passing of someone close to you, and I had this dream shortly before my father so suddenly passed away. However, another account of dreaming of a white room can be interpreted as starting over, like a painter, wiping the canvas clean, or white. Almost a resurrection, renewal, rebirth of a soul.
Upon entering the room, the light reflected off what felt like marble floor, emitted from a natural source of light from up above, as I look up the walls would shimmer like a pearl with a tint of silver. The room was empty but all there was in the corner of this room, almost camouflaged within the walls and the flooring was an old fashioned right hand facing chaise lounge.
I then woke up. The second dream I had a night ago;
I’m walking through the ground floor of a house which is characterised by a different layout to what I have seen before, I walk into every room which gives the same response, outdated but clean, spotless infact, and I don’t focus on the contents of each room. I then walk up the stairs which seem to come back on themselves indicating it’s a fairly tall structure, and the first room I walk into is again, shimmery and pearly but with a tint of gold this time, and the room is complete with a set of furniture, again, same style as the chaise lounge in the first dream I had, but all the furniture had intricate detailed patterns in gold, like something you’d see in a castle.
And then I woke up…
I’m thinking maybe I’m having this dream as it’s coming up to 5 years since my father’s death, and it seems that May is always an emotionally charged month for me, it’s a constant thought in the back of my mind.
Then I’m thinking that maybe it’s the really cheesy lasagna I ate before I went to sleep, as I’ve noticed cheese gives me really strange vivid dreams, borderline nightmares.
I haven’t had many dreams of my old man since he left; there’s this blog here I wrote a while back about the meaning of a butterfly, in that dream I could hear my father reading me a poem, and the last words I heard were “alzati” which in Italian means “get up”. Another two dreams I had after, one where my father was upset, and one recently where he was very happy, it was one of those dreams where your movement is limited and you feel like your stuck, I know this ’cause I really wanted to give him a “huuuge hug” – something he used to love saying, giving and receiving.