Thunder Only Happens When It’s Raining
(The Corrs: Dreams)
If you dream about somebody, it means something. Not necessarily in a fatalistic, mystical way. But think about it. We are told horrible dreams, about horrible incidents, recur naturally, normally. To redream means something was important. So… why not something good?
Last year, I decided that when I dreamed of someone I would say hi, or send a message, even if it’d been ages. Then late last year, a friend of mine died and I think now that it’s even more important: if you think of someone, say something there, and then, or soon.
When I went to Canada, I ended most family conversations with “I love you” on the offchance it’d be the last time. This morbid habit has stuck.
Last night, I dreamed about a counselor I knew in Edinburgh. In the dream I was in a waiting room, filling out some kind of backdated survey, with a very sexy receptionist in the background. And 10 (I am calling him 10, for secret code reasons) walked in. He was a bit taller but more or less the same, and said hello briefly. Then an old lady started talking to him. Later in the dream, after having left this scene for some time, I had something to solve and would only talk to 10 about it.
I think I know, partly, why I would have thought of 10. I am finally “sorting” the drinking and I remember at least three conversations in which he rephrased the question/ assertion that I had a serious problem.
Also, some people are important. There are other dreams, dreams I have been stuck with. 2011 was my worst year. In my head I was pressed into some dark corners, and some of them I didn’t want to come out of. I would sit in the dark with demons whose existence I refused to acknowledge. I would endure nightmares, self-loathing, tears, panic, rather than discuss The Things That Were Not There. (See previous entries: is that why I was so scared of those things?)
Crucially, I was certain that (a) I did not deserve the time it would take to open up about things; (b) I deserved it anyway and (c) no-one could actually earn the trust required to pull me out. As predicted, it took a great deal of time. But hands up, I was wrong on at least two counts (still shaky on B). It is no small achievement to convince a person who won’t accept it, that they are worth listening to, spending time with, not rushing. It is easy to underestimate the power of not being judged.
I left Edinburgh in a depressed, alcoholic, mood-disordered, disorientated, semi-suicidal state. There were things unsaid (and also, really trivial things I would like to’ve asked). I haven’t talked about All That Deep Stuff since then… I don’t actually have time to go through it again. The demons are “not there,” again.
But there are dreams that are much rarer for me now. There are thoughts I’ve learned to unthink. There are some times, when I can be a tiny bit easier on myself, and that’s how come I have the headspace now to dream and then write an account of What One Ought to do, in the Instance That One Dreams of Another.
(p.s. 10p to anyone who comments with the correct reference for the title of this entry)