Paging Dr. Freud.
I had a crazy dream last night.
And it has nothing to do with my wedding, so I probably shouldn’t post about it here.
But have you ever had a dream that you just can’t shake? That replays over and over in your head all day & you feel compelled to tell people about because on some level there has to be a greater significance, even if you can’t put your finger on it in its entirety?
I woke up Richie at 2 am last night to tell him about it (A HA! Some blog topic relevance!) and he thought it was very twilight zone episode cool. And while I thought that was his sleepy, mumbling response, he, too, remembered my dream in the morning and we talked about it again.
Maybe it’s weird to share a bizarre piece of my subconscious with you guys. Especially since you probably just came here to read about dresses and flowers and venues and veils. But I’m nothing if not excruciatingly honest (uh, see my CD lyrics), so what the eff. I wont judge you for mocking.
I was at a club, feeling unusually down (note: I’m an EXCEEDINGLY and genuinely happy person like 99% of the time…and that other 1% is like clockwork to a certain couple days of the month). A college friend I haven’t spoken to in years (Mandi, I’m totally talking about you) took me aside & told me she could show me something special, but hinted that it was going to be difficult to handle. I took her hand and we walked into the basement of the club. It was so dark and there were sporadic groups of people. I started to feel so much pain & sorrow in my heart. Overwhelming. It wasn’t even specific to anything, it was just a collection of the sorrows we all carry around within us, our burdens. On a small dim stage were dancers dressed in black. When it was my turn, I pushed through the crowd, right up in front of the stage. And something strange happened.
The dancers pulled from me every ounce of sorrow. They took it all. And they performed it. They danced the exact pain I was holding in my heart. And as they did it, I was free. I felt lighter than I ever had, watching the visualization of my sadness. We all stood in silence and watched, the intensity of each dance unique to the person whose pain was fueling it. Mine was beautiful and intense and enlightening- I understood myself more in that moment than I ever had. And in the midst of the beauty and freedom of the dancers carrying my pain, there came crashing down on me a horrible realization- that as they concluded, they would have to give my experiences back to me. I would have to take it all back in. And now, as I’d seen it performed on a stage with my own eyes, I’d have to carry the layered knowledge of just how intense my sorrow was.
I looked at Mandi in a questioning panic and she squeezed my hand. Her eyes were sad and she nodded. The dancers finished. I closed my eyes and felt my chest tighten as everything I dreaded reentered my consciousness. It was all the more horrifying now that I knew the full visual scope of everything I carried around inside, and now that I had felt a few precious moments of life without any of it.
And as I left, I couldn’t decide if ignorance had been bliss or if I was better off with this new knowledge.
What do you think it all means?!
PS- I did fall asleep after drinking a full pitcher of sangria. So, you know, there’s that.