Writing is one of the most frightening things that I have ever done. Especially trying to share it with the world. There are so many social barriers and standards that we have to uphold that one wrong move can spell disaster (in my mind). Writing is very special to me. It allows me to be able to release some of the things that I feel, visit places I never got to visit as a child, and express some of my deepest desires and fears. I am giving myself permission today to share my dream that I had this afternoon with you. This will allow me to open up more and allow more people into my personal feelings. If I can open up and share more freely, I will begin to see my real life dreams flourish more freely.
I ask one thing… please share with me your feelings on the dream. What is your perspective on some of the symbols? What do you feel the dream means? What is your viewpoint on the content? As we open to other’s perspectives I think we increase or sense of who we are in this vast world that we live in. If you want, you can even share a dream with me and I will share my perspective with you.
My sister and I are sitting in my childhood home. She is showing me a picture of an ultrasound. Her friend is having twins. My sister tells me that the babies in the ultrasound picture look happy. I on the other hand have a completely different opinion. I see a glimpse of an unfinished nursery with some skimpy furniture and the room is half done. It doesn’t look prepared at all. I change back to the scene and look at the ultrasound again. One baby looks like he is bracing himself for the reality that he is about to be born into. The other twin looks like he is screaming and expressing his frustration with the whole process in general. I point out that the babies are not happy and she needs to look at the ultrasound again. I see a glimpse of my sister’s pregnant friend inside of the finished nursery. She looks happy and healthy and ready. The only thing is that even though she is fully prepared she is still feeling somewhat anxious. The scene switches back to my sister and me and my sister has paid money for a Facebook app on her phone that she could have gotten for free. She wouldn’t have even noticed it if our apps didn’t look so different. I laugh at her and ask her why in the world would she pay for an app that she could have gotten for free. She tells me that she can’t get rid of it because it belongs to my grandmother.