Today I woke up thankful that I am married to a nearly perfect man, and blessed with fantastic kids. The joy sprung from an unusual dream, so atypical that I didn’t know where it came from. I have this nasty habit of interpreting my dreams (and those of others!), even went overboard previously by compiling a dream journal. Jokingly, friends call me “Madam Babes: The Psycho at the Mall, “an allusion to “The Psychic at the Mall,” a rather intriguing booth in one of the local malls here in Legazpi City. Well anyway, I took the time to give my dream a thought, and try as I may, I just couldn’t quite make sense of it at once – so unfortunate for one who has always been fascinated with what goes on in the subconscious. I’m weird, I know.
I woke up a sullen forty year old, accomplished but well, yeah – single. Not single again, really single, wondering where life has taken me, and what have I done with my life. I felt an intense sadness, my heart beating slow—it was sore. My mother was prodding me to marry. To my mind, where the hell do I get a man at forty? At this age, all marriage materials are taken, or if they hang around, doubtless they are gay. But, a dutiful daughter, I said yes when she suggested that I marry the man she remembered. I couldn’t break my mother’s heart and so I could not bring to her the disheartening truth that this man she referred to has been married for a time. Of course, that is short of saying that I didn’t marry because I loved him. For now, I could only look at him from a distance. And so literally, I would gaze at him from my windows, wondering what-if or, what could have been.
It’s been quite a time that I have been sad – I mean, sad as in sad – so, the feeling was burning and overwhelming. (I panic whenever there’s throbbing; I don’t like heartaches.) A gentle touch of a hand on my knee brought me back to my senses. It took me a few seconds to realize it was a dream. I instinctively felt the warmth and affection of my husband and two girls, quite distinct from the intensity of aloneness where I just came from. I dismissed it, nevertheless determined to find its hidden message later in the day, as I had to get ready for work.
Now as I write, I am forced to premise my interpretation on the widely accepted notion that dreams are reflections of inner conflict that I have failed to resolve in the conscious level. Had I not awakened, I might have had confronted the issue right there in my subconscious (because in the oddness of my person, I have found a way to stay lucid even in my sleep). But the dream is over, and right now I have to rely upon a metaphor.
But surely, I know the message: I have unresolved conflicts, and my subconscious tells me to address them. At 38, I am eager to start a new phase in my life which most people say begins at 40. But before a new life, first I have to let go – really let go – of things, people and events that I have lost but still hold dearly in my heart. I have not completely let go of all my anguish and hurt. I learned to compartmentalize. I kept them tucked away somewhere in my heart. True, I didn’t allow my emotional baggage to run my life, but I have allowed “these ties from pulling strings” somehow. My experiences profoundly affected my person; the people I lost-- permanently or not – made me lonely and left a hollow in my heart. I often wonder why I had to be left behind. I once in a while revisit my pain to repeatedly ask myself why and what if. I wished I could have done more.
One thing is certain though; I face a bright prospect – if I could finally stop “gazing from my window.” I must keep away from the distant. The past is gone and cannot be relived, except in the imagination. My husband, my two girls – they are my reality. They give me so much love, and I couldn’t commit the mistake of abandoning my now for what-if. My mind often takes me to unknown places. I have always loved the mysterious, the mystical, the unfamiliar. But then again, that is not what life is about. Life is the here and now – and this is where and when I must live.
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