I have taken an interest in dreams. People spend eight hours a day sleeping (at least as I approach 30, that seems more reasonable), and I have to believe more comes from that time than rest and drool. I take it to be my most genuine processing time, free from pretense or deceit. By paying attention to my dreams, I awake to a part of myself too often clouded by daily drama, preoccupation, or pride.
I remember two dreams from the other night. In the first, I was plastering a cob house wall in a business suit. As explored in my last entry, I feel torn between upcoming career and life choices. Both the cob walls and fancy pants are a means to and end. I want to reform foster care and, by golly, business suits just might do the trick. I want to live intimately with friends, and as we all know, 'if you build it, they will come'. And yet, these two things seem at odds. I was getting plaster all over my outfit, and in an attempt to avoid dirtying my suit, I was doing a horrible job plastering the wall! Each precluded the other.
Dream #2: I had a bloody nose. That's about it. I looked it up on a website I'm a little embarassed to admit I frequent. This dream dictionary suggested that a bloody nose warns the dreamer of becoming overly involved in other's fights. The application of this wise counsel is astoundingly broad. I have been picking fights for my past self and my future self. I have been mediating arguments, unprompted, on behalf of my husband, my sisters, and my parents. Not to mention my recent meddling in the love-lives of others. Sometimes I am attempting to fill my long-standing role as peace keeper. Other times I am trying to explore new conflict styles. In either case, I feel 'beat up', leaving no relationship better than before.
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