From Within

Torrin

{James=My Best Friend & Marina=My Internet Friend}

{This is by far the most intense, most emotional, and most important dream I've ever had in my almost sixteen years of life}

                This dream is most likely a vision from a past life so it is really important. This will be the first time I will have focused on the visuals from the dream. I don’t remember many of them, but that won’t matter once I start explaining. I’ve told a few people about this and every time I’ve done that I remember or gather something else.

                The first thing I remember is lying in a hospital bed holding my newborn baby. His name was Torrin. I’m pretty sure the name was his father’s idea. Torrin had soft dark hair like his father and a lot of it. I don’t think I was older than I am now and if I were I couldn’t have been older than seventeen. Torrin’s father, who was a Russian gangster (damn my mind), was a little older than me.

                Anyway, in the hospital bed I was holding Torrin and his father was with me. Everyone in the room as kind of squished up. There was a female doctor or nurse in there. I think she was blonde. My mother was there and I’m almost positive James was. I don’t really remember. I feel like I saw him, but it didn’t quite register. All the visual scenes were really blurry so I think however I accessed this dream or whoever managed to get it to me had a hard time.

                Anyway the next scene we were at a train station. I was holding Torrin and standing on the platform next to the tracks. It was daylight and there wasn’t a train on the tracks yet. This was the last time throughout the dream that I would feel normal. Torrin’s father was yelling at someone. I think they were other gang members. That would make sense because I know they were relatively young and he was protecting us from them.

                I’ll tell you about Torrin’s father now. He was very unemotional, but protective and supportive. He really did love us and had no intention of leaving Torrin without a father. He was happy about having a son and did what he could to comfort me when things started getting bad. If it weren’t for him I would have killed myself. I’m sure of that. He also lived with us.

                I don’t really remember many visuals after that. I know we were at home all that time and that was when I started feeling it. I am one hundred percent sure I had postpartum depression. I was always holding Torrin and every time I looked down at him I felt so drained and helpless. I just wanted to cry all the time and was always, like, half asleep and irritable. I hated myself for feeling the way I did. I didn’t hate Torrin. I loved him I just didn’t know what to do with him.

                Torrin was very small, which was occasionally exaggerated by the fact it was a dream. He was very hard for me to hold for some reason and it hurt my arms to keep them in the same position for such a long time. When other people held him they didn’t have any trouble at all. It made me feel like a failure. I felt horrible about myself.

                An interesting thing about this dream was how impaired the senses were. It seems like some were traded for others. For one there was no sound. For the first time there were absolutely no sounds and no dialogue in the dream. Also, like I said before. I only remember snapshots of visuals and those were very isolated and blurry. However my sense of emotion and touch were through the roof. They seem the most important.

                I remember my mom ran a shower for me and I walked in with Torrin, whom she took for me so I could bathe. I remember how hot and muggy the room was from the water being so hot. It was suffocating and I didn’t want to have Torrin in there. It made me worried. After my mom walked out of the room with Torrin I woke up.

                Now there are two more things that I didn’t go over in that. One, Torrin never cried. That wasn’t because I couldn’t hear anything in the dream. I would have been able to see or have the feeling that he was crying because it would make me feel even more worn out. He never cried. He was a perfect child. He was healthy and soft and warm and beautiful, just small.

                My other point is the name Torrin. I first saw the name last winter while looking for names for my WW2 story. The first time I saw it I realized how familiar it sounded. I was going to ask Marina about it, but decided against it. I figured I was just looking too much into it. Now I’m not so sure. I told Marina about it this time. She says I’m probably right about the dream being a vision of a past life. Now I don’t know that I could be much more positive, but of course there is that nagging doubt that I always have. No, I’m positive that was a past life.

                Anyway, this is a minor detail, but in the dream I had dark brown hair. Torrin’s father’s was black and he had dark eyes. I have also decided that this life wasn’t any earlier than WW1 and no later than WW2. When I woke up from this dream I was a little messed up for the first few hours of the day. The stupid thing makes me feel really maternal and determined to figure out as much as I possibly can, but it’s frustrating because I only trust myself to get so much.