A moment of Peace

    The first post of 2012 has come later than I would have liked - a combination of having a lot of different things I’ve been wanting to post about and an inability to work on that writing has made it so that, until tonight, I’ve had to put it to the side. There’s just been so much to do lately: between school, finding work, taking care of my temporarily disabled father, unfortunate events and even just regular day-to-day chores, there hasn’t been much time for me to work on personal projects, including (much to my chagrin) this blog.
   
    Even more distressing to me, the inability to schedule down-time means that Warden and I haven’t been able to indulge in much romance, a fact that rang particularly true just a few nights ago on the date marking our second year together.

    “This isn’t how I wanted to spend our anniversary,” he told me towards the end of a long day, sitting in the car at parking lot to our school. His tone communicated annoyance with himself and life in general. We weren’t able to celebrate that night: the beginning of the day before had been a lot of running around and driving back and forth to take care of errands that couldn’t wait, ending with both of us too tired to stay up together for very long. The morning-of had started early to attend the funeral of one of the most influential teachers (and people in general) of my life, and ended with hanging out with friends - time that seems precious given the looming dissolution of our close-knit group as everyone makes plans for the future, for work, for moving and for transferring schools. Even so, we would have gone out to dinner on our own - but Warden was feeling nauseous, which only lent to his frustration. Both of us were in much better moods by the time we went to bed that night, but the whole day was a bitter-sweet reminder of the importance of just having time for the things you want to do.

A chip off the block in the road

As wonderful as my spiritual journey has been so far, it hasn’t all been rainbows and metaphorical unicorns.

Lately, night after night, I find myself sitting up until the sun rises. Two, three days go by before I give in and lay down, close my eyes, and pass into black sleep and wake feeling sluggish and worse off than I did before.

It’s the dreams.

I can’t remember most of what happens in them, but I know this - it’s almost always my father.


Hit the jump if you want to read more - but be forewarned that this is a seriously ‘downer’ post.

Sour Dreams

Anyone who’s been following along so far would know that, based on my past posts regarding Symbolism, Dream Guides and spiritual direction, that I hold dreams in pretty high regard. Even if dreams are just the result of the mind spitting out random images and ideas, I believe very strongly that they provide a window into the subconscious and the things that worry - or delight us - the most.

A month or two back, I was plagued by stressful dreams about my father, and life in general. I chased them off by hanging up a dream catcher near my bed, and putting a special gris-gris near my sleeping area, with carefully selected items inside to - if the intent was correct - redirect any bad dreams so that if they didn’t hit the dream catcher, they still wouldn’t get to me.

For a while, this seemed to work. If one were to believe the idea that Dreams come from outside the body or mind, and were the result of spiritual or magical influence, these measures made sense. And as I’ve said before, if they can affect my subconscious and give me calm, then I don’t care whether or not they’re magic.

But what if the cause of the dreams is completely internal? Magic or not, if I’m setting up things to keep out bad influences and ignoring the cause of stress carried in my own subconscious, then I’m not going to be very effective.

I’m bringing this all up because, much to my annoyance and loss of rest, the stressful dreams have returned with a vengeance.