Lately I have not felt at peace. Stress has been bubbling up in my chest. It furrows my brow and causes a ringing in my ears. My body has been telling me to pay attention to the fact that something is out of balance. I have taken a leaf from Stuart Smalley's book. Since I cannot practice hours of meaningful, deep, quiet meditation. I settle for moments of silent affirmation. My mind tells the rest of me, "You are patient. You are loving. You are blessed. You are peaceful." I pause and repeat such phrases silently in my head even when I do not believe them, even as chaos erupts all around me. Sometimes before I fall asleep, I manage to affirm, "My dreams bring me clarity."
And lately my dreams have been speaking to me, obediently responding to my request. Sometimes dreams appear to be meaningless mishmashes of nonsense, but lately I have on occasion awoken from my sleep as dreams have reached their conclusions. My brain will not allow me to return to sleep until I consciously evaluate the messages that my dreams are carrying.
Last week I had a dream which I have had over and over again for a few years. In the dream I am at home, and I suddenly stumble across a door I never noticed before. The door has always been there, but I was never conscious of it. I, of course, curiously open the door and find that there is another wing on our house. It is beautifully furnished with rich wooden furniture and soft, clean, lacy quilts. It is warm and inviting. It is completely ready to be inhabited. For only a brief moment I marvel, "How did I ever miss all of this?" And then I start to make plans. I excitedly envision all of the things we will do with this newly discovered space. We will invite more people into our home. We will live more abundantly. I continue to explore and discover more and more previously unknown treasures.
And then I woke up. At 3:30 in the morning I found myself wide awake after having had this recurring dream again. I put my feet on the floor and walked softly down the hall while everyone else slept. I returned to bed and climbed under the covers. I finally knew what the dream meant. It was almost as though Someone bent down and whispered the secret into my ear: I am the house. I am that very familiar place, and there are things hidden within me that I am not conscious of. There are peaceful spaces inside of me, and they have always been there. There are richly furnished, welcoming rooms behind doors which need only to be opened. I do not need to look outside of myself to find what I need to feel complete. It is all here and always has been. And with that thought swirling between my ears I drifted back to sleep for the rest of the night.
Dreams do not always deliver comforting messages. This morning I awoke early after dreaming about fleeing from an angry hornets' nest with my two older daughters. These particular hornets were especially fierce. Their venom was not deadly but horribly painful. The girls and I ran into a bedroom to escape the furiously buzzing creatures who were after us. We slammed the door and stood staring at each other while our breathing and heart rates began to normalize. Then I noticed a singular hornet perched atop a lampshade. His bronze body shimmered in the light, and the sight of his delicate busy legs sent a wave of terror through my chest. He hadn't noticed us yet. "Sophia!" I hissed at my younger daughter, "You have to get him! Grab him and crush him with a tissue," I insisted urgently.
Sophia was equally terrified. "I can't!" she cried. And I began to scream at her, "Do it! You have to!!" And I watched my little girl inch toward the tiny object of our terror. She sobbed as she hesitantly reached for the insect and crushed between her thumb and forefingers with a tissue. Then she dropped the lifeless vermin on the table. For a moment we all heaved a sigh of relief, but then the hornet reanimated with a sickening buzz. The furious creature made a literal beeline for me. I growled angrily at my daughter before I dived under an ugly quilt where I cowered and trembled and did nothing to protect my children.
And then I woke up feeling more than little disturbed. Very little about that particular dream was realistic, but the shame and anxiety I felt when I awoke were very real. I got out of bed earlier than usual. I climbed up the stairs and gazed at my two older children who were still sleeping, and I realized that I have given them both a lot of extra responsibilities since their baby sister came along two and half years ago. Two and a half years ago, when Lili joined our family, I felt so overwhelmed with health issues and sleep deprivation. Those two girls had to learn to get along without me a lot of the time. They learned to get themselves up in the morning and to sort out their own breakfasts. They learned to be very independent.
I am all for independence. Learning to do things independently is great for a child's self-esteem, but now that I am no longer recovering from surgeries, now that I am no longer a sleep-deprived lunatic, it is time to plug back into those early morning rituals. I don't ask my children to slay dragons (or even bumblebees) while I cower in the corner, but I probably do require them to be responsible for more than they are developmentally ready for. I expect them to know how to do things that they haven't been taught. I expect them to manage their time more expertly while I, as an adult, struggle to get everything done. I do not offer as much help as I could and then get frustrated when things are not done in the way that I think they should be done. My children need more of me. I say this knowing that I have not been doing my best in some areas.
This is a bit humbling. I would say that I am a "good mom," but my hyperbolic, freaky hornet dream was pointing toward a very real issue. I need to stop asking my kids to take the lead when I should be taking the lead. I get it.
I am not certain that every dream carries a lesson, but as my "House Dream" indicated there are often answers to unasked questions inside of us. Sometimes dreams are vehicles for these answers. Are your dreams speaking to you? Here is one last dreamy anecdote:
My husband's mother, whom I have never met in waking life, once visited me in a dream. This happened about twelve years ago, and I still remember it very clearly. Using few words and two soft, strong arms that embraced me with an unconditional acceptance. She communicated to me that she was thrilled that George and I had found each other. I remember her, in the dream, pushing past other family members who were so eager to see her, and she said, with a twinkle in her eye and a determined finger pointed in my direction, "No, I want to see this one!" Then she hugged me as though she had known me forever. She welcomed me into the family before my husband had even popped the question. I cannot, of course, prove that this was anything other than my subconscious imagination generating a delightfully pleasant fantasy, but it feels like a gift.
I will continue to listen to my dreams. Whether they bring encouragement, correction, affirmation or merely entertainingly warped adventures, I will stay tuned.
And lately my dreams have been speaking to me, obediently responding to my request. Sometimes dreams appear to be meaningless mishmashes of nonsense, but lately I have on occasion awoken from my sleep as dreams have reached their conclusions. My brain will not allow me to return to sleep until I consciously evaluate the messages that my dreams are carrying.
Last week I had a dream which I have had over and over again for a few years. In the dream I am at home, and I suddenly stumble across a door I never noticed before. The door has always been there, but I was never conscious of it. I, of course, curiously open the door and find that there is another wing on our house. It is beautifully furnished with rich wooden furniture and soft, clean, lacy quilts. It is warm and inviting. It is completely ready to be inhabited. For only a brief moment I marvel, "How did I ever miss all of this?" And then I start to make plans. I excitedly envision all of the things we will do with this newly discovered space. We will invite more people into our home. We will live more abundantly. I continue to explore and discover more and more previously unknown treasures.
And then I woke up. At 3:30 in the morning I found myself wide awake after having had this recurring dream again. I put my feet on the floor and walked softly down the hall while everyone else slept. I returned to bed and climbed under the covers. I finally knew what the dream meant. It was almost as though Someone bent down and whispered the secret into my ear: I am the house. I am that very familiar place, and there are things hidden within me that I am not conscious of. There are peaceful spaces inside of me, and they have always been there. There are richly furnished, welcoming rooms behind doors which need only to be opened. I do not need to look outside of myself to find what I need to feel complete. It is all here and always has been. And with that thought swirling between my ears I drifted back to sleep for the rest of the night.
Dreams do not always deliver comforting messages. This morning I awoke early after dreaming about fleeing from an angry hornets' nest with my two older daughters. These particular hornets were especially fierce. Their venom was not deadly but horribly painful. The girls and I ran into a bedroom to escape the furiously buzzing creatures who were after us. We slammed the door and stood staring at each other while our breathing and heart rates began to normalize. Then I noticed a singular hornet perched atop a lampshade. His bronze body shimmered in the light, and the sight of his delicate busy legs sent a wave of terror through my chest. He hadn't noticed us yet. "Sophia!" I hissed at my younger daughter, "You have to get him! Grab him and crush him with a tissue," I insisted urgently.
Sophia was equally terrified. "I can't!" she cried. And I began to scream at her, "Do it! You have to!!" And I watched my little girl inch toward the tiny object of our terror. She sobbed as she hesitantly reached for the insect and crushed between her thumb and forefingers with a tissue. Then she dropped the lifeless vermin on the table. For a moment we all heaved a sigh of relief, but then the hornet reanimated with a sickening buzz. The furious creature made a literal beeline for me. I growled angrily at my daughter before I dived under an ugly quilt where I cowered and trembled and did nothing to protect my children.
And then I woke up feeling more than little disturbed. Very little about that particular dream was realistic, but the shame and anxiety I felt when I awoke were very real. I got out of bed earlier than usual. I climbed up the stairs and gazed at my two older children who were still sleeping, and I realized that I have given them both a lot of extra responsibilities since their baby sister came along two and half years ago. Two and a half years ago, when Lili joined our family, I felt so overwhelmed with health issues and sleep deprivation. Those two girls had to learn to get along without me a lot of the time. They learned to get themselves up in the morning and to sort out their own breakfasts. They learned to be very independent.
I am all for independence. Learning to do things independently is great for a child's self-esteem, but now that I am no longer recovering from surgeries, now that I am no longer a sleep-deprived lunatic, it is time to plug back into those early morning rituals. I don't ask my children to slay dragons (or even bumblebees) while I cower in the corner, but I probably do require them to be responsible for more than they are developmentally ready for. I expect them to know how to do things that they haven't been taught. I expect them to manage their time more expertly while I, as an adult, struggle to get everything done. I do not offer as much help as I could and then get frustrated when things are not done in the way that I think they should be done. My children need more of me. I say this knowing that I have not been doing my best in some areas.
This is a bit humbling. I would say that I am a "good mom," but my hyperbolic, freaky hornet dream was pointing toward a very real issue. I need to stop asking my kids to take the lead when I should be taking the lead. I get it.
I am not certain that every dream carries a lesson, but as my "House Dream" indicated there are often answers to unasked questions inside of us. Sometimes dreams are vehicles for these answers. Are your dreams speaking to you? Here is one last dreamy anecdote:
My husband's mother, whom I have never met in waking life, once visited me in a dream. This happened about twelve years ago, and I still remember it very clearly. Using few words and two soft, strong arms that embraced me with an unconditional acceptance. She communicated to me that she was thrilled that George and I had found each other. I remember her, in the dream, pushing past other family members who were so eager to see her, and she said, with a twinkle in her eye and a determined finger pointed in my direction, "No, I want to see this one!" Then she hugged me as though she had known me forever. She welcomed me into the family before my husband had even popped the question. I cannot, of course, prove that this was anything other than my subconscious imagination generating a delightfully pleasant fantasy, but it feels like a gift.
I will continue to listen to my dreams. Whether they bring encouragement, correction, affirmation or merely entertainingly warped adventures, I will stay tuned.
"Angels in some brighter dreams call to the soul while man doth sleep."
~Henry Vaughan
2 comments:
Meredith, what a fantastic post!! I do not have children of my own, but often times find myself taking a step back and reevaluating life and personal happiness. I think it's a great way to gain new perspective and realize that the life you have been blessed with is exactley the life you were meant to have! Oh, and I LOVE the dream interpretations!!
This was so lovely and brought tears to my eyes. The image of the room was so peaceful and comforting... and you are brave to confront the truth within the blurry imaginations.
Love you!
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