When I was 10, we moved into an apartment that had a gas furnace in the floor between the bedroom I shared with my sister and my brother’s bedroom.  There was no door.  Just a curtain.  And that furnace made all kinds of noise, especially at night.

I don’t think I dreamed about fire or my house being on fire or any place being on fire.

But after moving to that place, I began to have bad dreams about fire.

I was afraid the furnace was going to explode and there would be a fire.  I didn’t think about the explosion killing us all.  I didn’t dream about that.  There was always a fire caused by the furnace.

So I had a go bag by my bed.  I don’t remember everything that I had in it.  I know there was at least one of my favorite books.  There was one of my Bibles.  I likely had a change of clothes and probably a blanket.

I don’t remember how long I had that bag by my bed all ready to go just in case.  For several months, at least.

Ever since then, I’ve had bad dreams about fire.

When we moved to a different house and I had the bedroom in the attic, I thought about how I could get the money to buy one of those fire ladders just in case there was a fire here and I needed to get out via the window.

I hadn’t had a dream about fire in awhile until about a month ago.

All of my fire dreams up to this point had been scary.

This one was not.  The house was on fire.  There was fire outside the house.  But I wasn’t scared.

It could be because my dragon was outside.

Yeah.  I had a dragon.

That was seriously cool.

Apparently, that’s where the fire was coming from.

My dragon.

Even though there was fire in my house and outside around my house, I wasn’t scared.

That’s probably why I remember it.

That, and I had a dragon.

Here’s to good dreams about dragons.