Last night I dreamt of floods. Floods took over all of Nashville. The only areas where you could be free and dry of all the water was on the highest overpasses of the highway system. It was one of those dreams where cities from your past present themselves in small unexpected ways. The waters of the Cumberland slowly merging and then mixing with the dirty brown waters of the Houston Brazos river. The two waters coming together in the dream were hesitant at first like two apprehensive hands coming together for a handshake, and then as the force of nature pulled them together, there was no visibly discernible difference between the waters. People grabbed onto table tops, some had boats, others just simply drifted along in a quiet and accepting back stroke/float. There was no panic, no cries. Just a simple acknowledgment of "hey this sucks" and then "well, shit happens". Della Robbia sofas floated by with beautiful textiles browning from the muddy waters, artwork dotted the waters with vibrant colors, and strips of white reflective tape from the highway danced on top of the water breaks.
After having dreams such as these, I wonder the significance. Why did my mind conjure up these images? Floods typically mean "emotional issues and tension". And all I can think is what? me? never.
It's rare to actually have time to sit and think these days. That is, unless the flu takes over your body and you end up in bed for 3 days. Unfortunately, the kind of thinking that occurs is more of the "no one loves me, woe is me" kind of crap. Needless to say, I am still not feeling so very optimistic today. I am beginning to need a sign. A sign I can grab onto in the middle of flood filled streets....a beacon of hope to help guide me back to my usual state of optimism. I guess when you ask for a sign, it doesn't really present itself.
No comments:
Post a Comment