I have the blessing/curse of being a vivid dreamer, and last night I dreamed something so bizarre that I thought I would share it.
It started off with me and my sister (in real life, I don't have a sister) being left by our mother. Being the eldest (I am also the youngest in my family IRL) I was charged with the task of keeping my sister safe. There was some sort of natural disaster going on, an almost apocalyptic feel to it, and while the rain was pouring down and the lightning was shattering trees, my sister slipped out of my arms and disappeared.
The rest of the dream was the course of my life. I became fanatically obsessed with finding my sister, searching far out places and shopping centers with toys that came to life with the hope of finding her. I met odd characters along the way, some who promised to help me, others who tried to hinder me (mostly by killing me).
Towards the end of my dream, I finally found my sister. Except she was 32 and I was still only 16 or 17 (yeah, dreams don't make sense). AND she was Sandra Brown. Yes, Sandra Brown the writer. And when I hugged her and rejoiced that I finally found her, she just smiled at me and asked me what I was going to do next. Now that I'd found her--and she was doing just fine without me--my life's quest had been fulfilled. What did I have to live for now?
Nothing, I admitted. To which she gently suggested I end my life. In my dream, that sounded like a pretty good idea.
Does that freak you out as much as it does me?
Seriously, dreams are crazy, occasionally frightening, usually odd, and sometimes beautiful things. But I love the fact that I have ones that are so vivid because they are serious thought candy and can provide great inspiration for stories. So if you ever see a story about two sisters being separated in a post-apocalyptic world, you'll know where it came from.
Showing posts with label dreams. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dreams. Show all posts
Monday, April 18, 2011
Thursday, June 3, 2010
One day, I'll make it
You've heard that phrase, "you're your own worst critic?" Well, that is especially true with me. I'm not sure if it's because I struggle with clinical depression or am just a moody Cancer, but I would say that a solid 85% of the time, I feel like I'm not good enough.
And that's my greatest fear--not being good enough. So I'm one of those people who goes out of her way to prove others (but mostly myself) wrong. Just to say, "See? And you thought you couldn't do it!"
I've done so many amazing things with my life already and yet they slip my mind. I forget that I am someone who is worthy of my dreams. I've worked and I've struggled. I've suffered and I've conquered. And more times than not, I've come out on top.
I guess I'm too sensitive. I came into the world of professional writing knowing that it was going to be hard. It was going to cut me, deeply. And there would probably be more failures than successes. I KNEW this. I thought I was able to accept it. And I did...for a while. When the first rejection rolled in, I was actually a little bit relieved. (Whew, glad that's over with.) The second one didn't hurt either. But the more rejections that came in, no matter how nice or professional, cut just a little bit more. And before I could grasp what was happening, I had bled out. All my hopes, my confidence, my dreams drained from me. And, once again, that dreaded not-good-enough monster loomed over me gnashing its teeth.
It's been on my back for a while now. Burrowing deeper and deeper. I tried to hide it. I tried to smile and shrug and say, "Better luck next time." But it wasn't until last night that I finally acknowledged it. Getting rid of it involved a huge amount of optimism and honesty. And it involved crying--not the woe-is-me crying, but the healing crying that breaks open a festered wound and lets it finally heal. I came out of it with swollen eyes but feeling so much lighter. The monster had gone back to its lair, and I was once again to see my dreams--battered, but not broken--in front of me.
And I thought, "I CAN do this. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not a year from now, but I will make it one day. I know that I will. And, no matter how many more times the not-good-enough monster returns, I'll remember that I AM good enough and forge ahead. And, once more, I'll achieve my dreams, even if it shocks the heck out of me when it happens."
One day, I WILL make it.
And that's my greatest fear--not being good enough. So I'm one of those people who goes out of her way to prove others (but mostly myself) wrong. Just to say, "See? And you thought you couldn't do it!"
I've done so many amazing things with my life already and yet they slip my mind. I forget that I am someone who is worthy of my dreams. I've worked and I've struggled. I've suffered and I've conquered. And more times than not, I've come out on top.
I guess I'm too sensitive. I came into the world of professional writing knowing that it was going to be hard. It was going to cut me, deeply. And there would probably be more failures than successes. I KNEW this. I thought I was able to accept it. And I did...for a while. When the first rejection rolled in, I was actually a little bit relieved. (Whew, glad that's over with.) The second one didn't hurt either. But the more rejections that came in, no matter how nice or professional, cut just a little bit more. And before I could grasp what was happening, I had bled out. All my hopes, my confidence, my dreams drained from me. And, once again, that dreaded not-good-enough monster loomed over me gnashing its teeth.
It's been on my back for a while now. Burrowing deeper and deeper. I tried to hide it. I tried to smile and shrug and say, "Better luck next time." But it wasn't until last night that I finally acknowledged it. Getting rid of it involved a huge amount of optimism and honesty. And it involved crying--not the woe-is-me crying, but the healing crying that breaks open a festered wound and lets it finally heal. I came out of it with swollen eyes but feeling so much lighter. The monster had gone back to its lair, and I was once again to see my dreams--battered, but not broken--in front of me.
And I thought, "I CAN do this. Maybe not tomorrow. Maybe not a year from now, but I will make it one day. I know that I will. And, no matter how many more times the not-good-enough monster returns, I'll remember that I AM good enough and forge ahead. And, once more, I'll achieve my dreams, even if it shocks the heck out of me when it happens."
One day, I WILL make it.
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