"My first dream diary was recorded past middle age, I was fascinated with dreams and dreaming long before that."
Meet The Dreamer
I was born in Lebanon, in a village named Bsharri. It was a small village, nestled between the many rugged mountains that formed a huge part of our general landscape- a rustic place, with very few people and few luxuries of civilisation. Yet there was an extricating, untamed beauty to the wild mountain terrain, and untamed valleys – I loved roaming about there.
In the summer, the valley would be filled with wild flowers and lush greenery. However, when the weather turned cold, the conditions would turn harsh and the landscape turned bare, and desolate. During the winter months, all of the people in our village, including our family, would leave the valley for the town that provided respite from the bitter cold.
I can still remember riding up the mountain on donkeys from our summer farmhouse, to our winter home that is located at the heart of Bsharri.
As a child, I was always on the move. I could not sit still even for a minute. I loved to explore and the reach the unreachable places. Typically for a child at that age, I wasn’t especially fond of school. On discovering there was chance to migrate to Australia, I jumped at the opportunity – my sister helped me organise the paper work. But around then, my Dad became sick and was soon on his deathbed. Witnessing my Dad in so much pain at the age of seventeen caused me emotional stress, (there were no hospitals for treatment nearby). I felt hopeless, and helpless. My Dad passing away was extremely saddening for me.
The Dream Journey
Even though, my first dream diary was recorded when I was past my middle age, I was fascinated with the dreams and dreaming long before that. In fact, my fascination for dreams had begun at the age of eight, when I experienced one of the first few dreams that I can still recall from the time. Earlier in the day, I had been reading about different Gods worshiped by the Egyptians. The dream started with me being transported back in time to ancient Egypt. As I was walking around, I came upon a place of worship where there were lots of golden statues. One golden statue in particular caught my fancy. Like the other statues, this statue was also made of gold – however – unlike the others which were normal sized, this one towered over all the other, and seemed to reach to the sky. I was very fascinated with the statue because it somehow felt very familiar and it reminded me of the Egyptian Gods I had read about. Being raised in the Catholic faith, I felt that even though the statue looked like a God, it was not real. I decided to preach to it about my faith and how Jesus was the real God. As I was preaching, the statue suddenly came to life. It looked at me menacingly and told me that it was the only God and that there was no other, so it did not need to change. It then reached out its hands to kill me. In terror, I tried to flee. But the statue kept following me. As it ran, the Earth shook. Suddenly, I stumbled and fell. I watched in terror as the statue came closer and closer. As it stretched out its hands towards me, I started to scream and then suddenly woke up. It felt so intense that I felt terrified for a couple of days. I forgot about that dream for a very long time: but one day, when I recalled it , it set me on a path that changed my life.
Images of Bsharri, the beautiful hometown of Author Therese Kairouze.
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