I know, I know, it’s lame to blog about a dream.
Every great once in a while I have what I think of as a “journey dream.” It is a long dream interlinked, like a train, by a series of scenes. When I wake up, there is something about it that is significant to me. I feel compelled to record it, to give it more attention than most others. One of these I had in high school, and the theme dominant in that one was me trying on different clothes, looking at myself from the outside, and looking at series of pictures of people in my family. The long line of scenes played this out in different ways. In retrospect it makes complete sense of where I was at the time. Trying to figure myself out, trying to find a self that was comfortable, trying to understand myself through my family.
It seems lately I have felt extra secure. Wonderful people at work, confidence in my job, great friends in the neighborhood, and a happy marriage. Now that I have finally found (or created) a self that is comfortable in more spheres than just home, here enters the next dream train. I don’t remember all the scenes entirely, but enough I think.
The first(?) scene involves a big house with many rooms, and our friends Jen and Josh are present. I wish I remember more from this one.
Next, I am planning to visit my grandmother (who in reality is nearly 99 years old and lives in Florida). We are still trying to firm out the details and for a while I think that we may meet halfway. However it becomes necessary that I drive the whole way to visit her. She is in an apartment a few hours away. Part of me remembers that she is nearly 99, so there is unease, not knowing what she is like at this age in her life (I haven’t seen her in a year.) But she talking, walking, living on her own, and we have conversations. I don’t know what about, it just felt important to see her.
Next I am at my family’s old house in Coeymans Hollow. My Dad wants me to meet an important woman who will play a crucial role in my life if the interview goes well. Potentially a job or career or something else- it reminds me of when he took me around to colleges and I had my interviews on the campus. I realize that perhaps I should dress up more for the meeting. My shirt is good but the pants are not quite right, perhaps I should wear a skirt. But it seems I have run out of time to change.
I am at a table with a group of people. It felt like it should be an important meeting for me- associated with the interview I was preparing for earlier- but then it dawns on me that most everyone at the table is really there for my brother Jordan. One man is there because he interviewed Jordan for the sports section of a college newspaper and just liked Jordan so much that he had swung by months later to see if Jordan was around so that they could be friends. So he happened by and joined us at the table. At that point I wasn’t sure what the purpose of this was. They loved Jordan, but he wasn’t at the table.
I am sitting on the porch of the cabin at Crystal Lake. The scene I value so much while I am there was before me: the sun, the docks and the water. This scene fills my vision and I am flooded with exquisite grief. My parents are there and I turn and tell them. In reality, we may not go back to the cabin but I am ok with that. I don’t believe this scene was literally about the cabin. It is more so about a time, not a place.
I am traveling on a ship to somewhere far away to be in a competition. I am on the deck of the ship, looking out. There are icebergs and floes everywhere, as if in Alaska. But it seems further than that, as if I am going to the top, or bottom, of the world. I call my mother and tell her about it on the phone, describing the beautiful surreal white and blue ice floes. The ship is about to dock and nearly misses hitting two other white ships. I feel that the ship captain probably should have done a better job navigating.
We get off the ship. There are ladders. I note that they are surprisingly well constructed and easy to use. I find myself with a team of other girls, we are going to be competing in Olympic trials. I know the girls but have no real connection with them. It is just me on my own. Usually my Dad comes to these kinds of things but he is not here. I can hardly believe that I am in the Olympic trials. We are in a gymnasium, sitting on bleachers and waiting our turn. I’m not even really sure what event I’m about to do.
Even though I don’t really know what my event is, when it is my turn, I pull off a surprisingly difficult gymnastic/diving type of move. When I needed it, I found the confidence and mental focus needed to do it in a very intimidating environment. When I finish, a woman calls me over (my coach?) and directs me to have my picture taken with her. Then I am given a plaque which not only lists the judges’ scores- which were in the 7.0 and 8.0 range out of 10- but also a paragraph each had written about me. The feedback was affirmative, supportive, with confidence in my potential and what I would be able to do in the future.
I woke up this morning with this string of events in mind and I went over it to be sure to remember. I was still thinking about it on my drive to work and suddenly tears were rolling down my cheeks. Usually I am in better control of my tears, particularly when I’m about to be at work in five minutes! Something about this dream brings a ball of grief closer to the surface. I remembered Grandpa, who gave me feedback on my last journey dream all those years ago.
I like how this dream ends!
Feb 12th 2007Introspection