I have felt that I have been fighting it for a long time, the external momentums that want to push me away from the direction I seek to pursure, the feeling of sinking in a bog.
I dream in some fashion about the Creative Pulse all the time. Since I finished my undergraduate degree, I have a recurring dream about math classes. I recognize this as my “anxiety” dream, when I dream I have been registered for a math course and either have a) not taken any exams or b) never gone and all of a sudden realize this. What is significant is the emotion, the fear of being involved in something that I have been too late in comprehending my involvement in it. It usually isn’t too hard to figure out what it is exactly in life that I am truly worried about after having one of these dreams.
In the week I traveled to Montana, I had a variation of my math anxiety dream. It was the night I spent in Eau Claire, Wisconsin, which was just about the halfway point of the trip. I dreamed that I had been registered for not one but TWO math classes, it was past mid-term and I had never even gone to class at all. I took this as a measure of the degree of anxiety I was feeling upon embarking on a committment to the Creative Pulse program.
Now I dream more specifically about being back in Missoula at the Creative Pulse, probably in an effort to relive what I was feeling while I was there. However, last night I had a significant dream …
In short, I dreamed I was involved in a theater production and during the performance the theater caught fire. I was one of the few inside that was aware of this, and was simultaneously trying warn others and find a way of escape for myself. What was unique about this dream was the realism and the sensations. I have never dreamed about being in a fire when I have felt the heat of the flames so vividly, and felt the sense of impending suffocation from the smoke so realistically. I made my way with a group of people toward the lobby of the theater, but because I had held back to help others, I had waited until too late to be able to escape from this route myself. Many had gotten out, but quickly the path of escape had been blocked by flames. It was my intimate knowledge of the interior of a theater that helped me act quickly to seek another way out. I turned and raced toward the production areas – the shops. I ran inside. It was the oddest theater shop I had ever seen, but that is not vitally relevant to this narrative I think. There were a few people working singly in isolated spots inisde this strange multilevel shop. I was not able to convince them at all of the impending danger. The fire exploded through the shop door. It was that split second of decision – either I acted to save myself, or if I hesitated even a moment for one last attempt to save the others as well, we would all perish. Hesitation IS fatal, at times.
I acted. They perished. I jumped up through the levels of the shop toward a door at the top, which I knew led outside. I sat up in bed, startled awake, just as I had reached the door and the sensation of the fire was searingly impressed on my consciousness.
I interpret this as an accurate perception of the danger I have been feeling about the side of myself that I rediscovered this summer in the Pulse, “perishing” in the fire of ordinary life. I truly would rather die than be forced back by circumstance to my life as I knew it before.
yes the cost has been high, and in a sense it is irrevocable. The bell can never be unrung. There is no support or succor. All seems to be contrived to force me to abandon this new road.