Last night, before bed, I asked for clarity.
I was just lying there, not really paying attention to the Supernatural episode I had on and was staring at the ceiling. There was absolutely nothing illuminating there, so I switched my gaze to the wall. And I said, to no one in particular and everyone in particular, “I need some clarity. I think I deserve some. I’ve been asked to do this warrior thing, but I think I deserve to know what the hell the point in all of this is. I’m not asking to know the future; I’m not asking for you to tell me what the hell kind of path I appear to be treading. I think I just deserve a little fucking lucid thoughts here on what the fuck this whole thing is about.” This resulted in a sort of sucking, spinning feel that reminded me of bed spin after a night of drinking. I wasn’t drinking and I can tell you, I didn’t like the fucking spinning. I ended up falling asleep and this was the dream that came after this little interlude between me and whoever was willing to help me.
I was in an old folk’s home. I don’t think I was actually visiting anyone, in particular, but I was there when my ex-husband showed up with his entire family. I was in a crowd headed out of the door as he was in a crowd headed inside. I turned my head as we passed each other, my hair slapping me in the face and covering my profile as we walked by one another. He didn’t see me and I can remember the smirk on my face that I managed to get out before he saw me. I went to a van – a big, old, maroon van – climbed inside and began driving. I had to leave; I had to move; I had to get the fuck out of dodge. I ended up driving up a mountain road.
The dream rewound itself so that I was back at the old folk’s home. The situation wasn’t really different except that I didn’t bother turning my face. I didn’t hide who I was. I looked forward and proudly as I walked by him and his family. I think his eyes found me and I think he may have recognized me, but I’m not sure. Instead of a big, maroon van in the parking lot, I ended up in a very old and decrepit pickup truck. And I drove off in the exact same direction as last time. I went up a very long, dark, rutted, old mountain road. I don’t think I was going home this time. In fact, I’m not sure if there was a particular destination in mind. All I know is that I had to go up this creepiest, fucking scariest damn road so that I could get to wherever I was going.
However, the truck disappeared at some point. I don’t know if I had to stop and get out. I don’t know if it literally just disappeared out from beneath me. All I know is that, one moment, I was bouncing around in a truck that probably hadn’t had its shocks tended to in years. The next moment, I’m scared out of my fucking mind of every possible movie creature you can think of because I had to walk up a long, dark, rutted, old mountain road. In my mind, there were zombies and vampires and monsters and aliens and wraiths and demons and the whole fucking nine yards of the most evil, vile, scary fucking creatures imaginable. And even ones that had no faces because they’re not imaginable. There was no way I could turn around – I had to go forward.
So forward, I went.
I ended up finding the maroon van I had driven in the earlier interlude buried under a deep mountain of dirt and plants. Mostly, the greenery was grass and weeds. I brushed at the van and found the passenger side door and its window. I peered inside at a mountain of dust. The windshield wipers were casually folded against the dirt-shrouded windshield, looking like serene bugs sleeping it off. I was scared of this mountainous hill surrounding this van. I remembered driving this van but I didn’t remember what happened to it. I was scared. I began booking it up the long, dark, rutted, old mountain road.
I took to walking into people’s yards, walking through their thick and verdant green grasses. I didn’t count the steps or the minutes or the hours that passed by, I just kept going and going. And when the sun began rising off to my right, I saw that I was in a yard surrounded by puppies. They were happy, cute, and fuzzy little puppies with a happy, cute, old momma dog corralling them everywhere. And from that spot on, I began doing back flips up the mountain.
And that’s when I woke up.
Since I was specifically asking about the Christian friend situation, I was not happy with this response.
So, I began to try and figure out what the hell this dream meant. Obviously, it had to do with the ex-husband, so I had to work from there. What the hell was the point? Where was this going? I mean, hadn’t I already been doing all that work? Hadn’t I already come to the point where I’m just at the point of “who the fuck cares” when it comes to the ex-husband? So why the hell was he popping up now? Why in the world was this whole thing about the ex-husband and whatever the hell we had together? It didn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense. But, you know, now that I’ve talked it over with TH and a post I have saved to drafts… eh… it makes sense.
You see, TH and I were talking about my dream while we were eating breakfast. I told him that I had asked for clarity with the whole Christian friend situation and that was the response I received. He laughed at me. “Isn’t it obvious? You’ve left the ex-husband in the past; you’re well and truly passed all of that. Maybe that’s exactly what you need to do in this case?” I gave him a look like he was pulling my leg. He shook his head and said, “The van is your biggest fucking indicator. There it is, all helping you to get away. And then later, you find it covered over in years and years worth of dirt, decay, and plant matter. That’s the only symbol you need to focus on here. You’ve left the ex behind.”
And isn’t that the absolute truth of the matter? I walked by him a second time with my shoulders squared, my head held high. I didn’t care if he saw me or not. I would have preferred him to not, just in case I said something out of hand or snarky in a public place that would have left us both embarrassed. However, I didn’t really care one way or another, if he saw me or not. And the van being buried for as long as it was… that was clearly my mind trying to show me that time had passed and I’ve long since been done of the scared rabbit I used to be. The person who wanted to hide behind everything and everyone just so that I wouldn’t have to see or speak with him ever again.
But what does this have to do with the whole Christian friend?
TH thinks that this is everyone and everything telling me that I have to leave that part of me behind, too. The fact that I’m torn up about it should be an indication that I don’t really want to kiss that part of my life good-bye. In same vein with the ex-husband, however, I will if the need arises. But I’ve left things mostly alone. I haven’t commented again on anything she’s left for me; I haven’t even read it. I’ve decided to just leave it alone. What was it that I had said to Devo? That it wasn’t worth it because it would just happen over and over again until we were both blue in the face? This is something I’m having an issue integrating into myself because, you know, friends. Loved ones. But I know we’ll meet again, so why cause myself pain now when nothing will be resolved?
I’m not really sure if TH’s interpretation is correct here, honestly. It seems okay. It seems valid. And I know he’s telling me this because he hates to see me hurt. I’m pretty good about crying by myself so that I can get it out of my system without having to try to speak my hurt through sobs and snot. But I know he heard me crying yesterday. Ostensibly, it was because Dumbledore was dead. But, in reality, it wasn’t. I know that. Just because I said it was because Dumbledore was dead doesn’t necessarily make it true… and that’s why I asked for the fucking clarity here. That’s what I wanted to know a thing or three.
I think the symbolism behind the sun is that, soon, it will rise over what the hell I’m doing and I’ll know. The back flips and the puppies… I think it will be a joyful moment when that epiphany shows up. (CAN’T WAIT.) In the mean time, I’m just left guessing.