The Infinitely Creative Subconscious

I had the most incredibly odd and fascinating dream last night, and I just had to get it all written down before it escapes me. Later I think I will turn it into a short story.

First, I was walking across campus - a very common activity in my life! - going from some place to another place, and texting Nikki. She was at her jazz camp, which she is in real life, but in the dream the camp was being held on the UW campus. She was telling me where her rehearsal was being held, and I realized the building was one I happened to just be walking by, and I was about to tell her this via text, but then got distracted and just waved to her through the window instead.

Then the dream changed, and I was in a dark street in a city - I'm not sure which one, but it may have still been Seattle. I was working with a bunch of people on this decorating job, not unlike the party decorating the catering company I work for does. I did get the impression we were getting ready for some fancy party to come through and we needed to make the location look nice. Most of the people were people from my graduating class of high school, rather than the people I work with in catering. One guy that was a fellow musician stood out, otherwise the rest were just my classmates. I knew they were my classmates in the dream, but the dream didn't sort out names, other than Stephen, the singer.

Another, and I think the most fascinating, character was this one I completely dreamed up. He was an African-American guy, similar in appearance to a very forward stranger I met at a transit center (that's a whole other story!) and wearing a knit cap, a puffy coat, and carrying two or three suitcases. He was around my age, and had big dreams of marketing research, and throughout the time we were working the decorating job, this guy followed us around and chatted with us, often asking offbeat questions or telling stories. He had the most interesting way of talking, a way I never would have made up on purpose. He kept using the phrase "Is that a verb for you?" meaning essentially "do you feel that?" or "does that resonate with you?" For instance, he was telling us about the research he wanted to do in New Orleans about how all the disasters were affecting their nightlife, and when he talked about a certain street (it had a name or a nickname, but I don't remember it) getting flooded and shutting down the nightclubs, he asked if hearing about it in terms of percentages of clubs closed, record breaking events, or personal stories "were most a verb for us." He also just refered to New Orleans as "N.O." and assumed we understood. I think some of us thought of somewhere in Canada, although I'm not sure why. Maybe he was from Canada but wanted to travel to New Orleans.

Meanwhile, we continued with our decorating job. I came across something that looked like a cathedral, full of beautiful rows of seats and swings, with vines of morning glories entwined around the ropes that dangled the swings. Many of the seats and swings were covered with white sheets, and we knew somehow that whoever was wrapping the flowers around them wasn't done yet, and that they would be back, some day in the future, to finish their work. We wanted to take some of the morning glories for our decorations, but couldn't bear to steal them, so we carried on the decorations without them. Somehow I knew that the hall was to be dedicated to some great professor or teacher. I thought back to high school about my favorite English teacher, Mr. V., and thought that there should be a grand lecture hall built in his honor.

Then the dream changed again, and I was in the kitchen back at catering, but it didn't look quite the same as it is in real life, and the people weren't the same. Neither was the food. Usually we wrap to-go sandwiches in clear compostable plastic, but we were wrapping burgers and hoagies in foil, and most of the people were, for some unexplainable reason, from the cast of Glee. Not the actors. The characters. I was at the same time part of this episode in the early season in which the characters all worked in the kitchen, and reminiscing with Nikki about when that episode had aired. I particularly remember Brittney and Mr. Schuster being there. A friend of mine from my youth group was also there, and she only smiled at me, which seemed strange, but I didn't pay too much mind to it. I was too enthralled in my job, and getting finished, and enjoying what I was doing, chatting with the characters.

Again the dream changed completely, and I was in an apartment in Seattle somewhere, in the last week of Spring quarter, realizing how much time had flown - my last final was the next day, which was also the day my lease was up and I was supposed to move out. I had all of a day to pack! My apartment was on the first floor, and I went up to the balcony of the second floor (don't know why) and found Thuy and Joel there. This part is very interesting. Almost every dream about her that I've had since she disappeared has been essentially the same, save the setting. Every time, she reaches out to me somehow, tells me there's been some terrible misunderstanding - it's never clear what the misunderstanding was - and that everything's going to go back to normal now. And I buy it, every time. And every time, I wake up and think, "Bullsh*t!" No "misunderstanding" could possibly make it okay, and that recurring dream is getting just plain annoying. So unrealistic.

But back to this dream. This time, I was only talking to Joel, who looked a little different in the dream than he really does. I don't really remember what we were talking about. I more remember just watching Thuy to see how uncomfortable she was that I was standing there, casually talking to her husband, and acting like nothing was wrong at all. Eventually we went inside, and Joel and I continued to talk about whatever, and I continued to watch her squirm, feeling rather amused. She eventually and gradually started talking to me, too, both of us now completely ignoring the whole history between us. I wanted to work up the nerve to casually ask her, "So... what happened?" so I could finally hear her side of the story, but I figured that would blow it and she would just throw me out, so I never asked. I did learn that their lease expired the same day as mine, and we both had to move out the next day, but that's the only part of the conversation that really stood out.

Later on we went back outside, and there was a courtyard full of tomato plants outside the apartment building. I was looking at the courtyard, trying to think of how to explain its layout to my mom. I may have tried to text it to her or something. And, for some reason, we had to reorganize these tomato plants before we could move. I started trying to move some of them around, which proved to be really difficult, and there were spiderwebs between the plants. I ran into one of them, and had the wonderful luck of hitting one with a spider still in it. Moreover, a spider that had just caught a fly. The spider and the fly had landed on my shoulder, and the fly buzzing in my ear was what made me realize they were there, and I flicked them off and screeched before carrying on moving the tomato plants.

Strangely, I believe that was the end of it.

A House on the Rock

So I have made this decision to walk with God, and to remember that I’m never alone, not really. I talked at community group about feeling alone, feeling addicted to my phone, because it’s my connection to the outside world. To things outside myself that fill me up, distract me from my pain, and make me feel whole...

...unless they don’t. And sometimes they won’t. That’s where I run into trouble. I ask, “What am I supposed to do? God’s not going to send me a text message!”

To this, Leslie tapped the Bible. I smiled shyly, point taken. Longest, text message, ever. And the best. I never have to open up the Bible, fearing what it might say, paranoid of the news.

God’s never going to get mad or lose His patience with me. God’s never going to cancel on me because He forgot we had plans and accidentally made other ones, or because He’s sick. God will never leave me unexpectedly and never explain why. God will never be late. He will never slip and say something stupid that hurts my feelings.

I AM SAFE.

And I am here. I am not in the past. I am not in another place. I am not in the future. I am right here, right now, and God is right here, right now with me. I don’t have to obsesively check my phone every thirty seconds, waiting for an answer. The Holy Spirit is already here, waiting to wash over my heart of cold stone like a rush of hot water. I can visualize it now. My heart, cold and grey, embittered by the pain of a thousand disappointments, paranoias, and injustices, begins to soften as the Holy Spirit begins its work, easing me into renewal.

Because renewal is exactly what I need. I’ve become bitter, jealous, and selfish. I don’t like what has happened to my heart at all. It’s a sick, twisted thing, these days, and it needs a serious makeover.

Lucky for me, one seemingly random trip to church started the whole process. I didn’t think for a minute going into it that such a thing would happen. I figured I would go once, sit through an awkward hour of feeling judged and out of place, and then I would walk home and politely decline the invitation to come back.

But that’s not what happened at all. Mere minutes into the sermon, I was biting my lip as tears poured down my face. The words couldn’t be more relevant. Pastor Mark talked of the parable in Luke of two houses near the sea – one built on a solid foundation of rock, the other of sand. When the storm swells came, the house built on stone was unshaken, but the house built on sand was swept into the sea.

I feel for all the world like my life, my peace of mind, is just like the house built on sand. My reliance on imperfect things – fellow imperfect humans, incomplete cellphone covereage, my own ability to succeed in school – is the foundation on which my life is currently built. And guess what? Every day, it seems, some part of that foundation lets me down. Heaven forbid someone take more than two minutes to respond to a text message. Heaven forbid someone is sick and there’s nothing in the world I can do to change it. Heaven forbid I can’t understand the assignment without help. But these things happen on a daily basis, and if there’s anything I can trust for the rest of my life, it’s that things will continue to happen. This foundation will continue to fail me.

I began to think, maybe this is something I haven’t tried yet. Maybe this is an option I should be seriously looking at. My friends and family have been urging me for months to get counseling, and I’ve been nothing but resistant to the idea. I haven’t wanted to have a designated breakdown hour, every Tuesday from 10:00 to 10:50... I wanted a REAL solution, something that was more meaningful than a scheduled vent session, something powerful that would actually enable me to live my life with strength and peace of mind. For some reason, I was doubtful that counseling would give me that.

But could God?

After being apart from church for so long, the thought hadn’t even really crossed my mind. But suddenly, it seemed so obvious. It was a complete DUH factor. Why hadn’t I thought of it before? Heck, even rapper T.I. thought of it before I did:

“Wonder how I face years and I’m still chillin, easy, let go and let God deal with it.”

Of course, this is a lot easier said than done, but he had the right idea. I can’t do this alone. I’m failing miserably at trying to pick up the pieces of my house out the sea every day and scramble to rebuild my house, just in time for the storm to come crashing down on it again.

I have a lot of work to do. It’s not going to be an easy job to tread upstream and start moving all the building materials over to the new foundation on the rock. It’s true, I do still have some issues with organized religion to overcome, and I still have some deeply held opinions that are inconsistent with Christianity.

But, it seems to me that a life safe on the rock is worth the price of giving up my liberty to drop a bunch of F-bombs. There is a lot to change – I have some serious work to do on cleaning up my act. I realize it’s probably going to be a life long process, because obviously I’m never going to be perfect. But I think it’s going to be worth it. I’m tired of pain. I’m tired of exhaustion. I’m tired of fear. If changing my ways to make my life straight and narrow will help me walk with Jesus – and become more aware of all my blessings – then why shouldn’t I?

So I stand at a crossroads of great change. I’m still a little scared, a little hesistant to commit, a little steadfast in the beliefs of all my prior life – but it’s finally dawned on me that whatever I’m doing, it isn’t working, and I’m ready to try to change. It’s going to be a long road, but by the grace of God, maybe it will fill me up in ways my life as it is never will.

I am WONDERFUL.

~Whatever happens, happens, and everything happens for a reason~


I was a good friend to her this weekend. I did something kind for her knowing full well she probably wouldn’t have the nerve to do for me, and I was OK with that. It didn’t matter that she wouldn’t do it, because she’s my best friend, and I know she has and she will again to other things that are just as important.

I am strong, because I was absolutely terrified, but I did it anyway. I didn’t run away or cover my ears. I lay there, closing my eyes not to block it out, but to focus my energy on fortifying my inner strength. I thought of every calming and encouraging song I could think lf, and repeated them to myself over and over, reminding myself that it WOULD be okay, that whether it happened or not, both of us would be alright in the end. Still I was scared. My heart beat so hard and so fast, no matter how many deep breaths I took. The adrenaline made my stomach feel sick, and my throat was so dry that I could hardly swallow. The thought crossed my mind that maybe that was a good thing; maybe if I threw up – first, even – then I would have my precious Empathy, my Understanding. But I stopped myself before I could get too trapped in that pattern. Stop it, I told myself. That’s not going to fix anything. Just be here, where you are, and relax. Be still, my heart. Shhh… Try as I might, my heart would not stop pounding. I decided to take a Taoist approach, and accept the situation – and the fear that came with it – for what it was. Yep. This was really happening. And, yep. I didn’t like it. I was terrified, or at least something like it. I was definitely filled to the brim with anxiety, but it was a completely different anxiety from the phobic panic on my past. Then, the fear was indiscriminate and purely based on the action itself; it didn’t matter who it was. Now the fear has nothing to do with the action itself, and everything to do with the person affected. I could stand in a room full of strangers and not feel a thing. Not a thing that would hurt me, anyway. I’m sure I would feel disgust – I’m not made of stone – but I wouldn’t feel fear. In years past, I would have been overwhelmed by fear. I would have run for my life, dropping everything and fleeing in panic. I wouldn’t do that today. I would wrinkle my nose, make an offhand comment about something in the water, and calmly walk away. I could probably eat my lunch within fifteen minutes.

But not if it were one person I really care about. I’m both extremely protective, and extremely empathetic. I hate seeing people I care about in pain or misery, especially when that misery is related to the thing that was once my greatest phobia, even though the thing itself doesn’t scare me anymore. In fact, hate doesn’t even begin to cover it. I can hardly even deal with it. The only reason I can handle it at all is because I have no choice. You can run away from a scene, but you can’t outrun the truth. The scene used to scare me. Now it’s the knowledge itself, whether I see it or not, and so there’s nowhere for me to run. Nowhere but inside myself, to my inner reserves or bravery. Superchic[k] once said, “The only way out is through everything she’s running from.” I know these to be among the truest lyrics ever written. Running won’t get me anywhere, especially since the thing I fear the most isn’t the external circumstance, but the internal helplessness. A lack of control; I think that’s what it all comes back to. I hate dealing with things I can’t control, especially when it means people I love are miserable and there’s nothing I can do about it. Fundamental part of life, lack of control. I know that. There are very few things in life you can control, I know. Doesn’t mean I like it. But one thing you can control is your reaction. So I have to choose, and I did. My mind and body reflexively respond in fear; my thoughts start spinning; my heart starts pounding; my stomach starts twisting. That much I can’t control. So I could only control what I did. So I told her I was there for her, and said nothing about my pounding heart, hoping she wouldn’t see my hands shaking. And when she asked me if I wanted to go with her, I didn’t hesitate for a second before saying simply, “Yeah.” So we went. And laughed about how absurd and improbable the whole situation was. I happened to catch her watch out the corner of my eye at 11:17 – well, actually 11:14; she said her watch was three minutes fast. We grinned, wondering if it would happen at 11:48. I laughed, and ran to get my watch, which I knew to be accurate.

“You ready to finally see me in action?” she asked, a little sarcastically.

“Yep.” I don’t remember exactly what I said, but a million thoughts of phone calls and days after rushed through my head as I realised, with something between nervousness and amusement, that I was about to actually witness it after all our years of friendship. Given our personal rates of occurrence and how often we see each other, I suppose it was statistically bound to happen sooner or later.

She’s frustrated. Waiting sucks. I know. I’ve been there; I’ve been that frustrated. The weirdest thing is that every word that comes out of her mouth voices a thought I know I’ve had before… so by definition, I know that I know exactly how she feels. So in an absolute sense – if not a temporal one – I do have my understanding. That’s comforting. She feels something I know I’ve felt before if not now, so I think I can live with that. It’s something, and it’s all I’m getting; it’ll have to do.

Several minutes later, she decides it was a false alarm, and we go back to my room. My heartbeat slows down a little, but my mind is swirling and my body feels hot. Being brace is hard work.

Thirty-six hours and thirty-two minutes later, my mind is still in trauma mod, playing the scene and the words over and over, refusing to let me rest despite the fact that it’s over. That’s OCD for you. These last thirty-six hours and thirty-four minutes have been impossibly hard. I only made it because there was no way not to make it here. It hurts like hell, and I feel so conflicted. I’m glad it happened; it needed to; I need the opportunities to grow. I’m flinching in the residual fear/panic/protectiveness/what that awful feeling is. I’m proud of myself for being strong in the face of fear. I’m ashamed and aggravated that I have this bizarre complex in the first place. I’m afraid that she and anyone else that saw my blank stare will try to protect me and hide the truth in the future. I hate being protected. It only makes me feel weaker to know people don’t want to inconvenience me by showing me my weakness. The only way out is through, and to be strong enough someday that it doesn’t hurt… I’m going to need practice. It hurts to think people don’t believe in me enough to let me even try. Yeah, I was miserable yesterday, and thirty-six hours and forty-three minutes later, I still just want to break down and cry. But I’m one trial stronger than I was thirty-six hours and forty-eight minutes ago. My emotional muscles are so sore they can barely crawl, but as time goes on, the pain will fade, and the strength will be made manifest.

I am wonderful. I am a good friend.

I am brave.


~ And though I can't understand why this happened
I know that I will when I look back someday
And see how you've brought beauty from ashes
And made me as gold purified through these flames~