The 8th Nerve

So I’m Lance Armstrong and I’m running a race.  I’m gaining on the top competitor and I’m beginning to pass him.  I’m feeling strong and confident, surprising even myself as I realize how well I’m running with no sign of tiredness at all,  and the feeling grows as I put this guy behind me.

Then lo and behold, roving the landscape amongst the trees like a 50 story Godzilla, is Thomas Jefferson!  Not only that, he is completely metallic and gray colored, as if he stepped out of the nickel, grew enormous and began to walk around.

Then the nickel Thomas Jefferson begins to hurl boulders!  I’m dodging the boulders while still running, estimating from the height and angle in the air where they are going to land.  I, Lance Armstrong, am going to win this race no matter what.

When I think about it, I’d have to say that the themes of my dreams over the last several months have been unusually confident.  Lately I will get presented with nightmarish characters, unusually frightening faces, or situations as if the dreaming brain is actively trying to provoke me and I respond with no fear.

I don’t think I’ve ever had a dream where I could truly run freely.  In many dreams in the past my attempts to run causes the muscles to feel like molasses, usually as I’m being chased, hunted or about to  be overtaken.

This is a good feeling, as if my body and instinctive unconscious mind is saying “hey, I’m not worried, I know I can do it” no matter how much my conscious mind may fret or fear the unknown.   Particularly remarkable given that, in reviewing my whole dreaming life, it has rarely ever been so positive or confident.

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Aug 3rd 2009pregnancy