Having Conflict

CONFLICTI’ve regrettably been experiencing conflict lately. I mean, who likes conflict anyway? Who seeks it out and rolls around in it, loving all the things that go with it? The strife, the nasty words, the hidden meanings behind kinder words? I suppose I know some people who do. Doesn’t everyone? I ‘m not one of them.

But, if you think about it…what book or movie sells without having conflict? Conflict drives everything. Who wants to read about someone’s happy life? Page after page of hum-drum happiness. Yes, it’s great to be happy, but how do you know you’re experiencing happiness if you’ve never sat through a storm of discontentment? Do we know what hard is, if all we experience is soft?

So yes, although I very much hate going through this particular conflict, I must say, I will advance to greater things because of it. I never write a book with the intention that the conflict is going to kill off the characters. I write the conflict to sharpen them—make them see that now, because of it, they are happier.

Going through it, though, I feel choked, burdened, and undecided. My world, (not its entirety certainly), has become shaken a bit. Like a snow globe. One day I’m settled on where all the flakes have settled, and now they’ve been turned up, floating in the air, and I can’t seem to find peace until they’ve found a spot to land. Will they all land in the right spots?

On a brighter note, I dreamed of three white owls last night. I know, right? Really…the dream thing again? But I kid you not, these things happen to me. Who, out of nowhere, dreams of three white owls? Usually I’m dreaming of other weird stuff, but the kind of weird that I can see happened because of what happened the day before. i.e. I eat spaghetti at 11:00 pm and dream I’m at a party all night with noodles in my hair! That sort of thing.     So anyway,—I look up owls and it says that change is going to come and it’s a sign of wisdom. Yay for me! I failed to mention though, that one of the white owls died. It got spooked by my dog and died instantly. Total freak out moment for me!! I’m ignoring that clever part of the dream. Perhaps I have two more chances to get it right. ?

My truest advance apologies if this post comes across convoluted. I’m in the midst of watching my snowflakes land. And most hopeful that all the decisions I make in the following weeks will bring about the perfect spots for each and every one of them!



Dream Interpretation

Black-bearDoes anyone believe that dreams have meanings? To a certain extent I believe dreams are an extension of your subconscious. Things that you are scared to do in real life or things on your mind during the daylight hours, tend to pop up in unusual dreams. I don’t, therefore, look for symbolism in a dream in which I’m going to a party and having a good time. I embrace the getaway and wake up refreshed the next day. However, when I dream of something you’d find being described in a conversation with a psychiatrist, I take note.

Last spring I dreamed of a white bull. It was at the end of a street. I was a block away from it and could feel my insides quake when I saw air blow from its nostrils. I knew I couldn’t outrun it, and usually I’m the type that collapses in fear rather than run, but I took off. The more I felt the muscles in my legs burn, the less I heard its hooves on the pavement behind me. I turned to see it not chasing me. Then I woke up. Turns out white bulls are a sign of wealth! Perhaps I wish it had chased me:) Ironically speaking, we are now getting a white bull. Coincidence?

So last night, I dreamed someone gave me a black bear to carry on my back. At first I didn’t think I was able to carry it, but as soon as I hoisted it up around my shoulders, it was actually comfortable. Warm, even. I carried this little electric blanket, breathing, terror everywhere I went. I walked these weird paths with two other faceless people, searching for someone. I didn’t really know who. My sister? Anyway, when I went into places I became nervous, almost freaking out that people would see this bear and they wouldn’t understand. They’d think I was strange, try to take it away, or hurt it in some way. On the contrary, when I confronted my first situation with strangers no one saw it. No one flinched, looked over my shoulder, or waivered from staring  me in the eyes. Didn’t they see it?

The longer the time I had with it the more it’d become my security … my baby. Yes! I even felt it was like my baby. Something I had to guard and protect. Weird, huh? It never occurred to me to wonder why it couldn’t walk itself. Or where was I taking it to?

I looked it up when I awoke this morning and the consistent meaning I found was it represented fear. I suppose that would make sense why no one could see it. Now I guess I need to wonder about what I’m fearing. Why couldn’t I have dreamed of being a racecar driver or something fun? These deep thoughts are too much for a Sunday morning!