On Saturday night/Sunday morning I had a dream about a romantic encounter at a ski lodge with my ex boyfriend. Sunday night/Monday morning it was a Latin castaway rescue featuring Johnny Depp. Tuesday morning I was daydreaming about getting my neck (and naked back) kissed by a man with pale creamy skin and soft facial hair – to be completely honest, that was during a team meeting, not while I was asleep (but I was certainly not fully-conscious while it was going on). And this morning it was Fred Thompson.
You know, the actor and former senator.
No, I do not know why.
And I didn’t get it on with Fred. He was only interested in my career as a junior senator. But he was VERY interested. And there was also some sort of government conspiracy afoot. I’m sure of it. (But isn’t there always?)
Anyway, while I was in the shower this morning it occurred to me that my subconscious has been up to some weird tricks this past week. And, as per usual, I’m wondering what it might mean.
First of all, I certainly didn’t want to get out of bed in any of those cases, but the alarm goes off whether I’m dreaming or not. The ex boyfriend story made me cry once I woke up. My friend Tom said it was just my mind cleaning things up. My sister asked why I fixate on that ex so much. And I all I could think about it was that in the dream he loved me the way I always wished he had in life.
Which, of course, was a wish left unfulfilled. Otherwise, he would probably be married to me instead of someone else. I had been listening to Eckhart Tolle on Saturday and I think that may have prompted the dream. Tolle was talking about the concepts of ownership that we have. Especially the idea of “mine.” I was listening to the book on tape and while Tolle was discussing “mine” I started thinking, “He was never mine.”
At the time I didn’t specifically know who the “he” was, but the thought persisted. Maybe the dream was my brain telling me who the he was. He was never mine.
He was never mine. Not in the dream and not in real life. And Johnny Depp was certainly never mine. And Mr. Creamy…yeah that’s just a dream. He was never mine and he can’t be. None of them can, even if we are together. And my brain (or ego as Tolle would name it) is really having a hard time with the idea.
He was never mine. And he can’t be, no matter what.
(Well, maybe I could have Fred Thompson, but I think I’ll pass.)
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