|(not me!) from here|
Dave was in my dreams the other night. I dreamed he hadn't actually died. He'd had a near death experience and recovered. "Surprise! I didn't die!"
Where he'd been for the last 10 months never came up, nor did the fact that I'd missed the memo on his NOT dying. But there he was anyway, all logic suspended in dreamworld.
In life, Dave was the most practical, level-headed person I knew. He had strong feelings about tattoos. He just couldn't get his head around spending money to have a needle poked into one's skin repeatedly and then having to cover it to get a decent job.
He was also practical when it came to his emotions. He just didn't spend a lot of energy talking about or analyzing life, dreams, hopes, feelings or emotions.
In my dream, however, Dave's NDE had changed him completely. He had several tattoos to reflect the ways his experience had altered him and was outwardly philosophical and emotional. He was transformed.
I was so proud to have him back, as though he were a war hero, returned to me after fighting bravely. I kept reaching out to rub his back and I felt full to bursting with joy that he was here again. I had the urge to shout at everyone around us "SEE! He didn't die! He's here! He survived!"
They say in dreams, whatever you dream about represents YOU. If you dream of a house, the house is you. If you dream of someone rejecting you that person is YOU rejecting yourself, and so on.
So, it occurred to me that Dave may have represented me in this dream. I went through this life-changing experience, I survived and I am changed almost beyond recognition because of it.
Though I don't have any tattoos yet, I've been considering getting one (or more) for a while now, almost to mark myself as a new person since I feel completely different on the inside, anyway.
So, while the dream was heartbreaking and made me ache for him, it also felt like a simple message about my own growth and emerging self-worth. And by emerging, I mean baby-sized, blinking in the bright light, scared and ready to bolt back into the womb, self-worth.
But it's there, and it has potential. I get down on myself sometimes for not knowing what my new life's plan is, exactly, and worry about providing for myself.
Then I think of what I've survived so far and how, against all odds, I've held my shit together through it all and I remember that I have that flame within me.
I can do what it takes to be happy and fulfilled. I deserve it and I can do that for myself. I have that strength.