Sunday, April 23, 2006

Hindsight: Always 20:20

It's weird but sometimes I look back and find clues that I knew the right thing to do all along. I just ignored it.

I was surfing the net, looking to see if I could find anything new on a particular author I liked) and I found my old blog, nicely cached, because naturally, it's been removed from the net. (My ex-boyfriend was hosting it, long story, some other time).

I re-read some of the entries with amusement and then came across one that dealt with a dream I was having at the time. It stunned me. I mean, oh my God, with the blessing of hindsight, it is so obvious what the dream meant, although at the time I just thought it "weird". I was flailing in the dark, unhappy but refusing to acknowledge why.

I have to explain that I was in a relationship at the time, engaged to a person who made me desperately unhappy and who, I in turn, irritated and baffled. We had a few oases of peace, but our association was becoming increasingly turbulent. Things came to a head in Malaysia, where he had accompanied me for a holiday, and we broke up the day before he left. I grieved of course, because no matter how bad a relationship has been, there is a modicum of sadness when it ends (I think some people even miss their tumours). But there was this feeling release and relief. I would not have to marry him. I was free. And my third year in Australia was the best I ever had.

Anyway, here's the dream:

I have been having some way intense dreams lately. I listen to my Holosync meditation tapes and fall asleep just after breakfast and I dream I am on a bus. It's supposed to take me home, but instead, it's going the wrong way; miles and miles the wrong way. Instead of hopping off, I figure that when it gets to the other end, I can take a bus back. But something is happening to me. I am going blind. I try to keep my eyes open but I cannot - it's not sleep, it's blindness. Whenever I do succeed in forcing my eyes open, I am staring at the bedroom ceiling outside of the dream. But then my eyes force themselves closed again. So there I am, on a bus heading miles the wrong way, blind as a newborn puppy. How's that for a metaphor to whack you in the face?

2 comments:

goldennib said...

Don't you wish you could be a better interpretor of your subconscious in a more timely fashion?

Jenn said...

Yes, that I do. But it feels comforting to look back and know there were signs along the way.

And that I didn't make a mistake.