dreambank

I had a dream I keep thinking about, wondering about. I keep wanting to ask, but I don't know who to ask. It's a very strong desire to understand -- much more so than the usual when I dream, so I wonder if the desire to understand is related to the meaning of the dream itself.

I was at an event. Something with many people, some of whom I knew casually, and some of whom I did not know at all. But there were also some people I knew very well -- a handful -- and each of them had asked specifically if I would be there, saying they wanted to talk with me, either to catch up after an absence, or to cover specific information. I was happy to be there (if you know me well, you know that alone is a tad odd), and looking forward to socializing, catching up, and discussing with my friends -- those who had asked for my presence. Consistently and repeatedly, these people were avoiding conversation with me in various ways. Sometimes they would approach me, stand with me, even hug me in greeting, but as soon as I spoke, they would walk away. Sometimes there was a direct, "Not now," spoken in lieu of greeting. I found myself confused, bewildered, hurt. 

I awoke profoundly affected, with a feeling of strong reality. I spent the day yesterday trying to convince myself that a dream is simply an unconscious way to let go of daytime woes, rather than a method of explaining problems that need to be addressed. Half the difficulty for me is the specific people involved. Most of the time when these people -- or any people -- appear in my dreams, I may see faces, but really they don't look into my eyes to speak to me. This time each one did just before they walked away from me, pointedly turning away from me to walk away.

There are some strong frustrations in my waking life at the moment. Working my way through them is not going as smoothly as I'd like, and in fact, I am actively avoiding speaking about some of them, because I don't know where to turn. Or maybe I don't want to. Maybe these people are the ones I need to address. Or perhaps they are the ones I'm trying to engage, but I shouldn't be. That last possibility is what has me most perplexed -- it keeps coming back to me, almost as if it's written on paper in front of me. (The blank paper from so long ago? I've been waiting for something to be written upon it...) Perplexing and a bit painful. These are people I've counted on, shared with, cried for.

Can a season end for an entire group at one time? Where else do I turn?

my next life

"In my next life...." So goes the beginning of an ongoing joke with a friend. My line, which comes next, begins with "You would hate that because...." I think sometimes about what things I could have done with this life (lawyer, interpreter, world traveller) and can even pinpoint the moment each of those dreams was defeated. And a couple of second chances that were offered and why they were ignored. Or denied.

Today I found myself thinking, "In my next life...," but there was no one there to counter. And what I was thinking of would make me miserable in short order! I thought I'd like to be one of those call center people - the outsourced ones. Even one of the scam computer ones that call all the time lately. I had to tell myself I would hate it. (I was not hard to convince. Then again, neither is my friend.)

I began to wonder what brought this on today. Probably a combination of a training I attended this morning (mandated reporter), lunch conversation afterward, and some medical ethics in a class I'm taking. I hunger for the mental exercise involved in understanding and interpreting 'legalese' (or is that interpreting and understanding?) and social science language. I thirst for the discussion, debate and digging with others that follows. I would love to do that all day.

Or in my next life have no thinking to do at all.

Lately I seem to be in the middle. Too much to think about, too many questions unanswered, and nowhere to go with it. And that's just the more concrete work related stuff. Beyond that is the deeper, more life related things that come to mind when I slow down and pray. I need some depth. Those I once counted on for real conversation are too busy, or have moved on. My season seems to be changing; I'm waiting to be plucked off a branch. I'm not alone, but I am lonely.

You might say my next life thoughts are really a reflection of my regrets, but I think they are really places that would make where I am now look more appealing. You might also say that I'm not enjoying or living the life I do have. In that assumption you would be wrong. I love what I'm doing, and I love my life. I have reasonable frustrations; human feelings. And I express them at times. Another human thing. My need for depth stems from my inability or fear of finding it, if I am completely honest. I need to dive below the superficial as much as I need others around me to do so.

It's hard to be that vulnerable.

Really hard.

But it's what I need to do; to find. Otherwise I may end up where my wishes take me rather than where I belong.

ears of my heart

For the second time this week, I've been racked with silent sobs at daily Mass. Mind you, it's Tuesday.

Neither time has it been about the Message in the Book as much as it has been a message to my heart. One that is less in words as it is in feeling. Less decipherable than knowable.

And yet I have very little idea what it could be.
Unable even to recite the words of the Lord's Prayer for the emotion, and instead being enveloped in the words as they are spoken around me, feeling simultaneously confused and grateful, I know something is there, is coming, is so very near. I know Someone is standing beside me.

And the thought of it is overwhelming.

And the silent sobs come. I let them.

Mind you, it's Tuesday.

obstacle or bridge

The image memory is kinetic. I can feel each muscle as I strain against the arm around my waist, screaming and shaking my head so hard I can feel my brain. Punching my fists at someone, and feeling the soft tissue give under the blows. I try to kick, but need my feet under me for balance, for stability.
It's been a long time since I've seen this scene play out in my mind's eye. In fact, every time a teacher in oh, probably junior high, said the words "mind's eye," this is what I saw first. It's pretty dark, and the space is smallish, but I want OUT!
It used to be, when I felt this memory - and I only call it that because it's always been so vivid - or dream, I forced it away, fearful that it was how I would behave if I wasn't careful. That it was some primal, perhaps evil, instinct that could derail all of my dreams, my life. I'd see this on days when I was at the end of my rope: tired, stressed, lonely, isolated. Essentially, when I let my guard down.
Today, after enough time that I had forgotten, but not enough time to not remember, I again felt the intense feeling that I actually was there, in the vision. And I was struck by my reaction. First, I wondered if it was just me - the real, true me - wanting to come out; to break the mold of my false self (the one that's trying to please and impress). I wondered why I wouldn't let myself out. Second, I wondered if it was not a dreamed or imagined image, but an actual memory of an actual event. Only then did I remember the other feelings that had always been part of the package.
Tonight, I'd let my guard down. I was at the Adoration chapel, trying to be patient, to wait, to feel and hear. I wrote for a while, words that flowed freely to God today, but had been getting stuck lately, leaving me frustrated, and my soul tense. I went back and read some journal entries from a few months ago, and found some of myself I'd been ignoring again. I sat and waited. "Father, love me." Each time I say it, my heart opens just a little more, my eyes get more and more wet.
It's an interesting thing that happens when I allow my heart to open. I actually feel like the spaces between my ribs are widening. Usually at the point that I feel that, I get scared. I stop allowing for the presence I'm hoping for. Not tonight. And what I saw was not what I expected. Another turn in the path. An obstacle to overcome, or a bridge to cross?

it was good

I went to States today to see Henry swim. He was his usual amazingly athletic self, and the team did great, but the coolest thing was the way it became prayerful for me. Amongst the explanations to the newbies, and the cheering and excitement, I was profoundly touched be the realization that every ounce of what I was feeling was for Henry. Whether he knew it or not; whether he wanted or needed it or not. My love and pride and hopes and prayers were all for his focus. And in the middle of a hot, crowded, noisy natatorium, I heard the voice I'd been looking to hear. 

And it was good.