Just when I’m about to give up on a creative life,
things from nature remind me of who I am and what I’m here to do…
The pale, pert optimism of spring daffodils
that always come up, no matter what, each spring.
The rustle of breeze against branch, a shiver of nature
that brings goosebumps when I’m aligned with my truth.
And a sudden, surprising deer, stopping in its path to pause and stare:
An emblem of creative spirit come to visit.
the pert petalled chrysanthemums
lean over their vase:
a tight little offering
from someone who can’t be arsed
to think of the meaning
of supermarket flowers:
chrysanths can mean death –
theirs as well as ours
I hate this dream. It encapsulates everything that’s wrong with my life. I’m obsessive about time, fearful of being late, and I have to arrive an an airport well before check-in opens or I literally shake with anxiety.
So having this dream about having to pack my case quickly and run to the airport because the flight is going to leave truly feels like a punishing way to spend my sleep time.
My recurring dream about being late for a flight indicates there’s something pressing I’m not dealing with. (pic: istockphoto.com/ViktorCap)
The big issue is that I keep having this dream. And that means it’s trying to tell me something. I think this goes beyond being obsessed with time, which is something I’m conscious of. I know that time obsession is a thinly veiled death anxiety, as any existentialist will tell you.
No, I’m wondering what this stress dream is really trying to tell me. Carl Jung said: “The dream is a little hidden door in the innermost and most secret recesses of the soul.” My job is to interpret what that dream means by trying to find the key to unlock the door to whatever secret my soul is trying to communicate with me.
In the one last night, Continue reading
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