Strange dreams have been the norm lately. Almost every night, for over a week, I have been waking up four to five times per night. By the time I am conscious enough to realize that I was dreaming, the memories have faded to near nothingness.
In one dream last week, I was able to remember a few generalized details.
My father, quietly sitting behind the steering wheel of a large sedan, dropped me off at a restaurant high up on a populated hillside. After he pulled away, as I stood there alone in the darkness, I realized that I had no purse, no wallet, and no money to buy food—so I did the next obvious thing. (Remember, this is dream logic.) I mounted my trusty bicycle (don’t ask me where it came from) and I started gliding down the hill.
Soon I found myself sitting, talking to a man about half my age. After what must have been a delightful conversation, this handsome young man invited me to accompany him as his date to a high school prom. When presented with this gracious request, I simply replied, “I’m sorry … I can’t … I don’t have a dress … I am traveling with just my backpack and have only minimal clothing.”
Seconds later I was awake, scrambling to write down what few details I could still remember before they too faded away.
This morning I awoke from an intensely emotional dream, but again the details evaporated with amazing speed. All I could remember was that someone had told me that I was incapable of understanding their pain. When I replied that “Yes … I do understand … I went through the same thing myself when I was young,” I suddenly started to uncontrollably sob and roll on the floor as I began to re-experience that vivid emotional pain.
When I awoke, I found myself lying calmly in my warm bed; but the strange emotions still lingered in my body, leaving me to question the source and/or meaning of the deeply emotional illusion.
So what is the meaning of all these frequent and unusual (but not remembered) dreams that I am having?
I honestly cannot say quite yet—but I have an intuitive feeling that the universe is attempting to communicate with me in symbolic ways.
I am obviously not yet hearing. When I wake up in the middle of the night, my first thoughts tend to be about a bathroom trip and a return to sleep. By the time I think about the dream itself, it is too late—the memories are gone.
Something tells me that this is about to change, but not without some focused effort on my part.
An Inside Job
As I wrote on Dec 30, I found myself questioning my seeming desire for social isolation. As soon as I finished posting that blog entry I began to easily make a whole new set of friends. In the course of a single evening, I developed fun casual friendships with another man from Germany (Jan), a young Israeli musician (Roei), a forty-something man from Minnesota (David), and a South-African woman who currently lives in Mérida (Deborah).
Today, however, I am again puzzled and pondering. All of those amazingly interesting people have now continued on with their own individual adventures, and the hostel is once again packed with new travelers who I am sure must be every bit as loveable and fascinating as the last group.
But I experience no desire to speak to these new people. I have even found myself feeling slightly annoyed by their quirky behaviors—feeling somewhat resentful about their mere presence within the boundaries of my personal space.
“What’s up with that?” I ask myself.
The common denominator seems to be that I am emotionally withholding so that I can focus on writing—yet the fact that I am feeling irritated and mildly judgmental deeply concerns me. Such negative thoughts run counter to everything that I believe in—everything that I strive for.
But instead of fully embracing or acting on these feelings, I simply observe them with intense curiosity. I know that the problem is an “inside job,” having absolutely nothing to do with the people around me. Each judgmental reaction is merely a projection of something unhealed inside of me, something to look at in my own personal growth, something to help me make a minor course correction on my path toward learning unconditional love.
As a youth, and throughout much of my adult life, I struggled deeply with social awkwardness and isolation. Facing a group of total strangers ranked right up there with sleeping on a bed of nails, walking barefoot on broken glass, or being forced to walk naked through a crowded street.
In recent years, my growth in social confidence has been amazing. I have faced many fears, confidently standing up and lovingly sharing my story with countless friends and total strangers. I have spoken in university classrooms, participated in public panels, answered questions on a radio program, and am now publishing my writings and insights for the whole world to read.
Yet my experiences here at the hostel are reminding me that I still have considerable growth ahead of me. Certain types of people still tend to intimidate me and it is time to start changing that perception.
As I write about today’s feelings, I find myself regressing to my painful middle school and high school days. The unexplained intense emotions of this morning’s dream are attempting to resurface, reminding me of the debilitating loneliness and pain that I experienced as a youth throughout those difficult and isolated times.
In those awkward years, I was most intimidated by the popular kids, the ones that seemed to have it all—the good looks, the confidence, the social skills, and the athletic ability. Somewhere along the way, as I projected my pain and fear outward, I labeled such people as shallow surface-level airheads who had no real emotional depth or substance to back up their popularity. Somehow, such projection made me feel better about myself.
I had believed these stereotypical beliefs of mine to be resolved and dissolved long ago.
Today, as I get deeply honest with myself, I realize that residual trace elements of these old misguided perceptions still remain. It blows my mind as I recognize the dynamics of what was happening. The travelers toward whom I felt the mild judgment last night and this morning are younger, perhaps in their early twenties. They are attractive young adults who seem very confident, popular, athletic, and socially skilled—all people who fit my old teenage stereotypes.
“They are just shallow airheaded popular people whom I don’t want to bother getting to know.” The ego voices whispered in my ear. “I don’t have anything in common with them anyway.”
I now realize that thoughts like these were very quietly flowing through the back of my mind as I hid out in my room last night. Don’t get me wrong. There is absolutely nothing wrong with remaining in my room to study Spanish (which is exactly what I was doing.)
The part that disturbs me is the hidden motivation. I now see that my motivation was not based on love—it was based on fear. I was subconsciously afraid of attempting social interaction with people who reminded me of my past failures. The mild judgments I began to feel were a result of that projected fear. If I were coming from a place of unconditional love then any type of judgment would have been impossible.
From this time forward I pledge to be ever more diligent in paying attention to my internal motivations. I choose to shine a loving spotlight on my fear-based perceptions, embracing only behavior that is based on pure unconditional love.
Well, at least that is my lofty New Year’s goal. I’ll let you know each time I stumble and pick myself up.
New Year Festivities
The evening progressed in delightful sequence. Eleven of us from around the world spent the evening visiting and counting down the final hours and minutes as 2009 drifted away into the history books.
Learning a few interesting facts about each person was fun—such as the fact that sweet humble Roei (pronounced Roy) is a keyboard player and songwriter for the Israeli based band named “Infected Mushroom.” He was quite proud when he told me that their latest album achieved Gold status in Israel earlier this year.
As the evening continued to unfold, I found myself reflecting and pondering about my emotional and physical whereabouts as 1999 blinked and became the year 2000 just ten short years and an entire lifetime ago.
At that long-ago moment in time, I believed myself to be on top of the world—happier than I had ever before been.
Now, as I reflect back on this decade, I am amazed by the incredible roller coaster ride of struggle and growth through which I have since passed—a ride for which I will be forever grateful. I am so blessed by the spiritual insights and healings that have graced my soul. I could never have imagined my life as amazing and peaceful as it is now.
This same reflection process makes me intently curious and excited to see where life might lead me in just another ten short years. I can only imagine the limitless possibilities.
As midnight ticked away, those of us who were gathered congratulated and hugged each other before walking outside into Candelaria park to witness the local festivities.
In Mexico, many people build what they call a “muñeco (pronounced moon-yeh-coh) del año viejo” and place it on their roof before New Years Eve. The muñeco is a life-size doll made to look like an old man. Prior to being stitched up, the muñeco is filled with firecrackers and other flammable stuffing.
At precisely midnight, the muñeco is brought down to the street and lit on fire, an act that symbolizes the old year being consumed by fire as the new year enters to take its place. As these muñecos burn, the firecrackers gradually ignite, creating frequent outbursts of loud random popping.
As our group entered the park in front of the hostel, we delighted in witnessing many of these large burning dolls on several local streets as the continuous rumbling of firecrackers could be heard bursting throughout the area.
I giggled with joy when I noticed that even the nuns at the local Candelaria chapel were out in front of the church burning their own muñeco.
As an added treat, my friend Trish had told me about a lunar eclipse that would be taking place on New Year’s Eve. A quick round of internet research told me to watch for it at 1:13 a.m. local time. The skies were incredible as the visibility of the bright stars in the black sky was only hampered by the large and bright round globe glowing directly above us. This rare blue moon (second full moon in the same month) was an incredible addition to our New Years Eve celebration.
When 1:25 a.m. rolled around and the eclipse had still not happened, I ran inside to double check my internet research. I giggled again when I realized that I was off by twelve hours. The partial eclipse had happened twelve hours earlier—over Europe, Asia, Africa, and the Middle East.
Even without actually witnessing the partial lunar eclipse, just the simple act of staring at such a beautiful heavenly display provided a powerful burst of energy to my soul as we entered this incredible new era of the 2010s.
The Art of Allowing
Even though it was New Year’s Day, Doctor Gomez had asked me to stop by the clinic to have my bandages changed. What ensued was a delightful visit.
After the usual sterilizing and cutting procedures, Dr. Gomez and I sat down in his office for a short chat.
“I am not rushed like I normally am,” Dr. Gomez told me. “Since it is New Year’s Day, I don’t have any patients waiting to see me.”
Eager to learn more about Dr. Gomez, I began to ask him questions. Having previously noticed that all of the Doctors post two last names on their signs, I first asked him, “Can you explain your name? Are you Dr. Gomez or are you Dr. Quintal?”
For ten minutes, Dr. Gomez explained to me the intricacies of how names are passed down in Mexican traditions. In Mexico, everyone has two last names. The first comes from the father, and the second comes from the mother. All children in a family, both male and female, share the same two last names. The children’s first last name is the first last name of their father. The children’s second last name is the first last name of their mother.
While the children’s names are derived from the names of their parents, they do not exactly match the combined names of either parent. For example, if the father is named “John Joe Smith Jones” and the mother is named “Susie Marie Hansen Adams,” the children’s two last names will all be “Smith Hansen”.
As we finished discussing names, Dr. Gomez began to tell me about his dreams for traveling.
“In a few years when I am about fifty, I would love to do what you are doing.” Dr. Gomez began. “I would love to take my family and travel for a year or more, exploring different parts of the world, especially Europe and Italy.”
As I asked more personal questions, I discovered that Dr. Gomez is forty seven years old. He became a doctor about nineteen years ago, and finished his advanced certifications in orthopedics and trauma about four years later.
What a delightful experience I enjoyed as I took advantage of a rare opportunity to get to know my incredible doctor at a more personal level. I overflow with smiles as I recognize the amazing synchronicities that continue to unfold as a result of simply being bitten by a tick and then following my heart’s intuition.
Before we parted, Dr. Gomez informed me that he was quite encouraged by the healing progress on my skinless tissue. After telling me that he only wants to see me twice per week, he made a prediction.
“I will be surprised if the healing takes more than another two, or possibly three weeks.” He told me.
“Can you guarantee that?” I asked with a smile.
“No, only God can do that,” he replied, “but I can guarantee that you will get the best possible care from me.”
My intuition continues to tell me that I am exactly where I need to be. Every time I am with Dr. Gomez, I come away with a strong resonating peaceful feeling. I know that all is well.
Later that same New Years Day I sat down in the outdoor kitchen area of the hostel. Soon, I was spontaneously involved in a deep philosophical conversation with David from Minnesota. As we explored our spiritual beliefs, it became fascinating to realize that his core spiritual beliefs are nearly identical to mine, even though we arrived at them through two totally different and unique paths.
Our inspired conversation energized my soul, reminding me how silly my social fears really are. The universe has an amazing way of bringing events into my life as I simply sit back and allow the energy to flow through me.
Just yesterday, as I lay in a hammock listening to a CD on my IPOD, a deep feeling of joyful peace consumed my soul.
Being halfway through my seventh post-burn week, the old me would have been chomping at the bit and climbing the walls, desperately anxious and eager to finish my healing and to move on with my life adventures.
But yesterday as I lay in that hammock in a near state of peaceful bliss, the new me simply smiled inside, knowing that the condition of my ankle does not matter in the least.
While in this state of joy, a phase from one of the “A Course In Miracles” workbook lessons popped into my mind: “I am not a body, I am free, for I am still as God created me.”
There is no doubt in my mind that this statement is true. This mortal body does not define or limit me in any way. I am divine. I am whole. I am free. Things are perfect just the way they are. I need do nothing of my own accord. I need simply listen to, trust, and act on the voices in my heart. (By the way, these statements apply to each of us.)
On this beautiful Tuesday evening, as I finish my writing, I am somewhat amused at the emotion I experienced earlier today as I wrote about my judgmental fear-based feelings. Such feelings now seem light years away as I am once again experiencing that deep sense of peace—a peace that comes from simply allowing universal love to flow through me.
Copyright © 2010 by Brenda Larsen, All Rights Reserved