I dreamt of Cecily and somehow the dream has had ongoing disturbing implications for me.
Because of my beliefs about validity in my connections to the spirit world, I don't know to what extent to assign the symbols in the dream to me, to Cecily, to truth, to analogy, to fact or to fear.
My memories of the dream itself are disjointed and poorly recalled. There are areas I have been forgetting since I woke up that I originally remembered and that set some of the tone of my interpretation for the parts I still do remember.
I know to trust feelings as important when felt in dreams (regardless of their origin or point of view) so I have that foothold to work with.
The culmination of the dream went to Cecily leaving the scenario of the previous part of the dream where I had been happily with her. She had gotten on the burnside bus, and I had followed her, pleading with her to stay together with me. I told her to let me come with her, and that I would go anywhere and do whatever was needed, including paying for things, and anything else I could think of that would make it easier for her to allow me to come.
She did not speak directly to me in the dream, she just psychically sent impressions of her reactions into my mind, answering me that way. But she was able to quietly talk using her voice with other people who were not me.
She told me repeatedly I could not come with her through her non-vocal communication with me.
On the bus, she began talking quietly with a young woman with medium brown straight hair cut at shoulder length who had an arm around Cecily's shoulder. The girl was maybe in her 20s and she seemed kind of tough. She wore a blue hoodie. She was a former drug addict in recovery I somehow thought. She had a pale, unfriendly face. They were huddled together talking and then the girl protectively took up the cause of telling me to leave Cecily alone. I tried explaining myself to her and I tried befriending her. I even at one point said I'd welcome going to NA meetings with her and I lied and said I go to NA meetings myself.. sometimes. She continued to treat me hostilely.
I persisted in trying to negotiate and the three of us wound up getting off the bus maybe around maybe 20th and e burnside near that gas station intersection. The girl seemed to believe I could not possibly understand what was going on with Cecily, and that was why she would not explain why I was not welcome to come too. I kept asking something along the lines of "Why, why can't I stay with you, Cec?" Finally, the girl yelled at me exasperatedly, "Because you don't fit!! You don't fit!!!" I took this in and intuitively knew that she was pointing, at least generally, to the situation of me being still alive and Cecily being dead. I said back to her, "Ok, I can understand that actually." In that moment where I gave up my point in the face of being included into the explanation, it surprised the girl, and I think, somehow got me to the next scene where I otherwise would not have gotten to stay with Cec.
In the next scene, I was still with Cecily (though the girl was not) and I got the sense that I was seeing where she had been staying when not visiting others. She had placed herself in the hands of this priest/man who was there, and he was a very depraved evil man. She was not concerned about that. Her energy struck me as both fragile and persistent. She also reminded me of both the vulnerability of a young girl and the assurance of an adult woman at the same time. Her and the priest/man had some sort of bargain going on for what she wanted that he could provide her. I saw a small, not-overly-clean bed where she had been living in a stifling small room with no windows, just one door. I remember the bed specifically because there was a scrap of itchy-looking knitted yarn material crumpled at the foot of the bed and I tried to tell myself that maybe it wasn't so bad that it was itchy, and at least she had a blanket of sorts. I had the sense that it was hot and stuffy (I remember me wanting to get out of there) in this room, but also vulnerable and chilling to me (I wanted more blankets on the bed for Cec to be protected when she lay down.) But that part of the discomfort of the room itself was subtle and not part of the main issues I had with the situation.
The priest/man had an actively fed appetite for young boys-- keeping them, molesting them, and I think also killing them. Because Cec was a female, I consoled myself slightly that he had no interest in focusing his appetite on her for his own gain. Cecily still wouldn't speak directly to me or acknowledge me there. This was her personal situation, it seemed. I felt powerless to judge or intervene, I could only watch and care about her mutely without full understanding or having a voice. The door to her room, it turned out, opened into a main shared area that was a common area for other depraved evil men all living within this windowless sandstone place. I saw some sort of shoddy, long, wood, work table with men around it, and there was one man who was apparently helping the priest/man and Cecily who was standing facing the doorway. He had a wooden cross with some extra wood joints on it, that made it more 3-dimensional looking somehow. He was holding it upright and I saw that it was probably not even 7 ft tall-- not very big, but big enough to stand above Cecily.
This cross-bearing man, who was also a pervert with an appetite focused on young boys, was going to crucify Cecily onto that cross. She was willing for this to be done and in fact that was what she felt needed to be done to her. That was the bargain she had with them. There was this strange comment from the man who had made the cross where he said to himself, but really to Cecily, that (even though his interest was in torturing young boys) he didn't mind doing this to her because it would remind him of his wife. The implication of his tone suggested that his wife annoyed him and so hurting his wife was a side fantasy he was prepared to draw on in order to get the job done with Cecily. I got a vision of 5 or more nails nailed haphazardly into the hand and feet spots on the cross, and I understood that I was seeing his plans for Cec. He would nail multiple nails into her hands and feet even if they went in sideways sometimes or were an overkill. The point was to crucify her, and he wasn't concerned with minimizing the pain of it. More likely the opposite, if anything. I also saw how his comment about his wife was another form of sly torment that Cecily accepted, his lack of concern and his mild zest for her pain.
She said nothing to me as she walked out of the room toward the cross. She had, to my recollection, blue (or was it red??) paint on her hands. She turned to the man and asked him if it was okay if she washed her hands off before being nailed up to the cross. He was fine with it and she went over to a nearby dirty group sink and began washing her hands. I was confounded over why she would care that her hands had wet paint on them when she was about to have nails driven through them. The only thing I could piece together was that in the image of Christ on the cross that she was about to replicate, Christ does not have messy hands. So, she would have clean, bloodless hands on the cross as well.
There was a sense of inevitability that I could not stop that hammer from soon being positioned to strike down to push a nail through her dear hand, and then it was like a page turned or a door was shut, and I was suddenly laying on the floor "back" at my childhood home. I was on the floor right by the back door. I was holding an ipad. I was in shock and near paralysis from the crucifixion of Cecily I'd just been ejected from, and as I looked at the ipad screen it showed a video of *something* going on in the world, almost like a secret doorbell cam, showing what was going on 'behind the scenes'. Whatever it was that I saw on the video was going on was brutal and ominous to me. I was overwhelmed, wanting to unsee these depictions of what was really going on, and my dad walked over and was standing over me. I did not expect him to understand and indeed, I was braced for him to attack or try to mock me, but instead, he reached his hand out and helped pull me up off the ground even though I think I was saying something hysterical about what I'd been through, perhaps. Then, he was gone again uneventfully and I was dazedly surprised and grateful for the aid.
At the back screen door, there appeared a shyster of a tradesman who had made a mask for us (the group of "us" were friends that included Cecily and I before the main part of this dream started). He had the mask we'd commissioned and to my repugnance I saw it was a giant, hard, 3D model of what looked like Jesus' head with the long hair and beard. It almost looked like a giant messy, budget muppet version of Jesus and it was designed to fit entirely over someone's head. I did not want the mask at all, and the guy was trying to collect money for it. Suddenly, I remembered that I had already paid him $30 (in a baggie) for it, and I told him I wouldn't pay him twice. When he started to leave, for some reason I insisted that he leave the mask head here since I'd already paid for it.
As he left, he set the head down on a counter than now ran the length of the back of my childhood house. On the other side of the long counter, was a work area "behind the scenes" of the length connected directly into the house's basement. There was no one crafting anything right up by the counter, but I could see there was darkness I couldnt see into at the farther reaches of the basement, and there was lots of things blocking the view of what was going on in there.
Further, it was very relevant to me when I first woke up that there was electrical activity happening in multiple areas at once throughout this work area setting behind the counter. The electricity seemed to represent something ominous to me and yet I also knew it represented the electrical firing of the brain. It may have been something about my connection to electricity and the spirit world-- how spirit energy can interact easiest with electrical impulses and things which are "fast" energetically and low density, like lights or electrical currents. Maybe the ominousness was partially the dread of this dream being true.
In looking at the strongest feeling I had during this dream, it was the sense of sorrow, shock, and powerlessness over Cecily choosing to harm herself. I gathered that she was trying to atone for something, and that she was also following in her Catholic religion's footsteps by desiring to emulate Jesus, but the sadness and harm she was suffering appalled me. I got the impression that she was able to regularly leave the prison of her self-judgements to help those she felt needed her on earth, but that she also desired pain to cleanse herself somehow. That is the only explanation I have for her willingness to go through with such a thing, and her unwillingness to be deterred from it. She felt like it was her path. This aggravated an old fear of mine that we choose our own reality after death and that maybe Cecily wasn't out of harm's way if she was not able to have mercy on herself less conditionally. Since I would not have guessed such a masochistic side to her in life, it made me fear for myself besides being sickened at the idea of this being a genuine dream communication of her situation. If someone so resolute, practical, and good as Cec would feel her only way forward in the afterlife was to have dealing with malevolent perverts in order to painfully torture herself, then what horrible fears made manifest do I have to look forward to, despite my own belief that I do NOT believe consciously in some sort of hell in the afterlife for myself or anyone else?
I believe we are all worthy of knowledge, peace, and beauty... that the evils we may harbor or visit on others in this world are just the good beings twisted up into something unnatural out of confusion or injury. I have many times imagined the axe murderer dying and coming to his senses after death, knowing it was a dark and horrible mistake, not his 'true' nature but instead a temporary by-product of life.
My questions are twofold in that even if my own beliefs are creating a wonderful reality for me to move forward in after I die, what about Cecily? In my reality there is compassion even for those who cannot believe it for themselves, so shouldn't a soul have a way to not suffer EVEN if they didn't have the belief system to support this in life? It's a lot of paradoxical stuff going on in my head at best, and at worst, my fears have ramped up to a new level of tarnishing things I have believed to be above harm.