Wednesday, August 12, 2015

Leave my dream alone~

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Why does the eye see a thing more clearly in dreams than the imagination when awake? ~Leonardo da Vinci



During lunch with friends, one offered me her bag of potato chips—she knows I’m addicted. I must have been in one of my rare and transitory healthy phases, because I said no.


“Then take them for Bruce,” she urged.

“No, he doesn’t eat them any more...” Then, because of the looks on their faces, I added “Oh, he stopped eating them before...” meaning before his cancer diagnosis.

They knew what I didn’t say; one told me she was sorry to hear; the other asked a couple questions... and all this prompted me to go into my “We’re fine, he’s fine, I’m fine” mode.

But I decided to share my owl dream, and how it had revealed to me that I was angry and feeling out of control--even though I’m fine, for all practical purposes!

I started in about seeing the owl, wanting to take photos, not having my camera...but Lin interrupted me with a question: “What kind of owl?”

Now I like details, too, and tend to interrupt to get them sometimes, so I told her: the head was a barn owl and the body was a snowy owl.


I resumed my dream-telling, but noticed that she looked sort of alarmed: she pinched her mouth shut as if she were holding back a river of piranhas, and her brow went all squiggly.

I got the feeling that dreaming about owls when one’s husband had just been diagnosed with cancer was... maybe not such a good thing.

As I continued the dream, Lin still looked tense. I touched her arm and said, “What? Is that bad? Dreaming about an owl?”

She sighed and shrugged and opened her mouth.

“Don’t TELL me! DON’T answer that.” I sounded a little deranged, but I subscribe to the head in the sand approach—what I don’t know can’t scare me.

She kept quiet for a while as I continued the dream—my frustration at not having my camera, the futile attempts to get a shot with my iPhone.

“DID you get a picture?“ she asked.

“I couldn’t,” I said. “Everybody got in my way and the sun was too bright.”

“Oh, well that’s good, then, GOOD that you couldn’t get a picture of the owl,” Lin said,” relaxing a little.

I felt both relieved and, well, to be honest, a little angry.

Really? I thought it was a dream, not a prophecy! It was my subconscious telling me that, while I thought I was okay, I’m frustrated, sad, and angry. I needed to realize that, and it took an owl to waken me to that truth. I LIKE owls. I once collected owl figurines.


Later, I looked up “owls in dreams” and saw why she was concerned. But I choose to think the owl was a conveyor of wisdom, rather than a harbinger of death, because I think the best interpretation of a dream comes from the dreamer.

And I haven't dreamed about owls since. 
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For more stories on my  blog, click the title "Upstream and Down" and scroll down to see more of the cancer journey...


5 comments:

Pat Stoddard said...

Ruth, I never knew you were such an imaginative writer. I didn't know about your situation. I guess it's wonderful that you have this way of expressing your feelings.

Ruth D~ said...

I was a writer before I was a photographer, Pat. Right now, I lean more toward photography, although when something is very personal for me, I NEED to write.

Wanda said...

Ruth ~ thank you so much for reaching out and renewing our friendship. I have saved your blog to my new blog list and won't lose you again.

I rather behind in your journey so don't understand some of this post, but know that whatever you've been going though you are a trooper, and a lover of life and all things beautiful.

I've loved your stories in the past, and your photography.

Much has happened since we lost touch. Retired from ministry after 50 years, moved to Southern CA to be close to children, grandchildren (9) and great grandsons (2) A dozen in all. We live in a Senior/Family complex called Villa Ramona, and love our little apartment with a balcony...We call it the Tree House and love living here.

Picked up my brushes and watercolors, and have a new excitement about my art again.

Thanks again for your friendship. Love and Hugs.

BTW ~ I'm 6 years cancer free ~ the journey continues, but different now as each year marks another milestone.

Lori Whalen said...

Honestly great

-b9 said...
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