Day 43: Lessons from dreams

I had this big message-laden dream back over the summer, not long after the going-back-to-school plan went belly up. It feels related to the piano business, so I’m throwing it up here today. Quick thank you to Erica who inspired me to write the dream down at the time. Thanks, Er!

Background note: At the time, one area in our living room had a mess of boxes and junk that needed to be gotten rid of or put away. The stuff had been stagnating for months and had taken on more than a little emotional weight.

The dream: That part of the living room was clear, and there was a door on the wall there. I had forgotten that the door went to a bathroom, which was nice and big and pretty, white tile, clean, and there was a shower in there, too. I had forgotten that the bathroom even existed and felt a sense of relief. I thought, awesome, this is perfect, I’ve been wishing we had a second bathroom.

There was another door inside the bathroom, and I thought it was to a closet, but I opened it, and it turned out to be the front door to this whole other part of the house that I didn’t even know existed or had forgotten was there. So I was walking through the space, taking it all in. It had a nice kitchen, so much bigger and laid out better than the one we have. There was another living room, a bedroom, a den, all on one level. All this space I didn’t even realize we had.

There were stairs to other levels, too. One set of stairs went down to the basement, but there was a door blocking it off, as though it was there for later. Same for another set of stairs going to the second floor, blocked off at the time, but the potential was there. It felt fine just knowing these other levels were there, even if I couldn’t even get in them. I knew that eventually all the levels would all be available and connected.

I went out a side door and found an alley where an old-fashioned car was parked, looked like it was from the 1920s. I got in the car and looked in the kitchen window (there was a window over the sink, just like I want), and a man was standing in the kitchen, even though I’d been alone in the space before. At first I thought it was Andy, because he was young-looking, tall, handsome. I got him to come out to the car with me, but it wasn’t Andy.

It was this dream version of a real-life cousin of mine, meaning he didn’t look anything or act anything like my real-life cousin, he just had his name and that same weak connection to me. In real life, I don’t know this cousin very well and don’t get the sense that if I did I would like him; we’re just too different.

My dream-cousin had been living there without my knowledge or permission, although there was some inkling that he felt entitled because in the dream my house had been previously owned by his grandmother. He was scared that I was going to kick him out, so he’d been living there by sneaking in through that side door in the alley. He smoked, and he knows I hate smokers. I suppose I should say smoking, because in real life I know people who smoke that I still like, but that’s the way I wrote it at the time, and it seems to make more sense in the context of the dream.

I thought, but didn’t say, Why do you want to live here in this part of the house that’s cut off? Let’s be friends. We can combine the space and make one big awesome place, and you can live in the real house, not shut off in this disconnected part. It would be nice not to be cut off from each other. We can hang out. I’d be less lonely, and you could stop sneaking around.

I just knew that I had to love him anyhow, despite the smoking and the secretive free-loading. Later, after I left, I wrote him a note, and my pen didn’t work. After a bunch of tries, I finally managed to write I love you on a piece of paper and tuck it under the door.

And then I woke up.

What I got from the dream: Everything I need is inside me. It’s all already there, just waiting for me to claim it. If I can love the parts of myself that I judge as bad or wrong, that I don’t think I’d like if I got to know them better, if I can welcome those parts of myself into my life, make them at home, love them anyhow, I’d be happier, feel less alone. I already have everything that I need to have the life I want.