This is a serial dream. In fact, it is the only serial dream I've ever had. I have dream “landscapes” that I often revisit, these may be city-scapes, places I have lived in, or not. They may be landscapes with sweeping vistas or not.
What they never have been, except in this one instance, is a true “serial dream” Where the location remains unchanging, the actions within the dream do not change, and the “actors” do not change.
What changed was the...content...of the dreams. The “message” as it were.
I had these dreams at, about, age 6 or 7.
The dream would start with me getting out of bed, although it was still night, there was enough light to see clearly.
I would walk to the closet, open the door and knock on the right hand wall, it wasn't a big closet, and in the dream, it was empty. High up in the wall was a tiny door, like the kind you would see in a speakeasy.
This tiny door would open and the face of a demon would appear, but the thing was, it was the face of a Buddhist demon, something I had never seen pictures of at that age. I would be startled, but not scared, he would ask me what I wanted and I would say, “Nothing.”
He would growl, tell me to go away and not bother him, then he would close the little door. I would turn and knock on the left hand wall, it would disappear entirely and Jesus would be standing there, but not in the form that most people think of him.
We had a family Bible, in it was a picture of Jesus as a child allegedly teaching some Pharisees a thing or two. It might as well have been a picture of Jesus delivering a pizza for all anyone really knows about his life when he was a child, and, of course, this Jesus had blonde hair and blue eyes. Puh-lez!
That was the Jesus standing there, blonde hair, blue eyes, long white robe, very warm and open, he would say something like, “Hello Edward, won't you come in?” and hold out his hand. I would take it and walk with him down a long olive green hallway. At the end of the hall was a room, in the room were two high backed, leather upholstered arm chairs in the same shade of green as the hallway.
Off to the right was a second room with a wide doorway that was pitch black inside, I could just make out the edge of some piece of furniture in it. To the left, directly behind the chairs was a staircase, at the top of which was a frame window with a very bright light shining through, but not so bright that I could not look upon it.
Jesus would sit in the right hand chair and I in the left. We would have a conversation, about what I cannot remember, but it was a conversation, not just him telling me things. These conversations would go on all night long, because I would start to dream soon after falling asleep, and they would always end the same way, with Jesus telling me I needed to go back to my room, which I would do, and it was always right before my mother would come in and wake me for school. These dreams would run for six or seven hours.
This went on for many nights in a row, then in one dream Jesus told me that we would not meet again in this fashion, I would not see him again in that form, that our time together was done and that he had to go away, he didn't say where or why.
I don't remember how I felt about it.
He did something he had not done before,He walked me back down the hall, I stepped into the closet and turned to look at him. He smiled and let go of my hand, he said something to me that I do not remember, the wall re-materialized and I woke up, just in time to get out of bed and get ready for school.
The next night I had the dream, I got out of bed and went to the closet, the little door was in the right hand wall, I knocked, but the little door did not not open, no Buddhist demon face appeared. I knocked on the left hand wall, it vanished, but Jesus wasn't there.
The hallway was there, I walked down to the room, the chairs were there, the black room was there, the staircase, but no Jesus. The only thing that was different was the window at the top of the staircase. The shade had been drawn, an old fashioned paper shade that you would pull down, it had been pulled down.
The light coming from around the edges was still very, very, bright, but the light coming through the shade itself was very dim. Once I became aware of this, I woke up and I never had that dream again.
Another interesting point, on the nights I had these dreams I did not move in my bed. I remember this because I did something that, looking back on it, was almost a ritual. I would get into bed, fold the blanket and sheet across my chest, smooth them down, then place my arms at my sides, on top of the blanket. I would close my eyes and be instantly asleep.
When my mother would wake me the next morning, I would be in the same position, the blanket and sheet as smooth as I had made them before going to sleep. Nothing out of place. I laid in my bed without moving for eight hours. This only ever happened on the nights I had this dream