Finally......
Thursday, May. 07, 2009 1:46 PM
"You were born together, and together you shall be for evermore.... but let there be spaces in your togetherness. And let the winds of the heavens dance between you." - Kahlil Gibran
I had the strangest dream last night. Or maybe it was this morning since I tend to do most of my dreaming right after I slam my hand down on the snooze button the first time. In this dream, I woke up. It was our wedding day. I was standing in a bathroom staring at myself in the mirror.
I looked different yet the same. My hair was shorter and curled out at the sides, and my face looked exhausted. My eyes were a bit swollen, and my cheeks were red. It wasn't a rosy red. It was the red I used to get in high school when my face was about to break out. Oddly enough, I had a blackhead on my chin. It was huge. I squeezed it and suddenly all this brown liquid started coming out. It wasn't a small amount, either. It was oozing out like blood does when you've cut yourself pretty bad. It was one of the grossest things I can imagine coming out of my body, and it was pouring out of my chin for the whole world to see.
I looked down into the sink for a moment contemplating what to do about the brown liquid. When I looked back up into the mirror, my face was covered in hair. I had grown a very light colored blondish brown beard. It wasn't a normal beard. It was like the hair on top of my head. The strands were long, except in this case the strands were also straight instead of curly. I began pulling at the hair on my face, yanking it out by the handfuls. The hair came out easily.
I called for Kent to come into the bathroom. I was paranoid and freaking out. I kept telling him I couldn't get married looking like this with a thousand strands of hair on my face. He began yanking at the hair, too. Both of us pulling it out on different sides, but no matter how much we yanked at the hair, it was still there. It was like it was taunting us. We'd pull a handful out and another handful would be there.
By the time our wedding guests began to show up, we were able to remove half of the hair. Underneath the patches that we were able to remove was the most beautiful skin I have ever seen. My exposed skin was porcelain perfect, smooth to the touch without a single flaw. And then... I woke up.
The dream disturbed me. It disturbed me so much that I looked it all up in a dream dictionary. Of course, I couldn't find everything about the dream inside the dictionary. I could only find certain definitions. All of them were hinting at me that I need to go back to my roots. I need to acknowledge the masculine side of myself, and I need to accept that fact that I want to become more assertive in my life.
It makes sense. I am a bit hesitant about changing my last name. I have lived with this name for almost 32 years. It has become the name that defines who I am, if not completely. I know when I change last names I will still be who I am. I will still be associated with that name because I will never stop being a part of the blood line that name comes from. It's just something I need get over and let go of. Time will tell on this one.
And as for the masculine bit, that also makes sense. I do need to become more assertive. But then I could look at it a different way. I was tugging hair from my face and telling Kent I couldn't get married like this. Perhaps it's a small part of me that's scared to get married and be the bread winner in the family... a small part of me that's hesitant to take on the more masculine role of the relationship since I have always wanted to be a stay at home mom. Either way, both definitions fit.
Now on to something else.
I was driving to work this morning and I couldn't help but let my thoughts wander off. For some strange reason, I kept thinking about how my sister Angie asks herself often, "when exactly did you lose control of the situation?"
Perhaps I was thinking this because I was also thinking about when I have my own kids. Will I also feel like I've lost control? There are times when I feel out of control with my own premade family. When did I suddenly become the person whose car is piled up with toys and junk in the backseat? Since when did my car become the dumping ground for Sonic straw wraps and candy wrappers? When did my living room become the home to a thousand tiny cars lined up all over the floor? Shoes are thrown in the corner, dirty socks are tossed underneath the couch, water bottles are left empty on the coffee table, a toy gun rests on top of almost every counter top, and there's underwear stuffed inside bathroom drawers. I can already relate to her, and yet I haven't even given birth yet.
Will I feel this aggravated about such a mess when it's my own child? Will I be easier on them than I am on my future step-son? I don't know. I really don't. I pray to God that I learn to accept the things I cannot change and just roll with the punches.
