I’m reading a great little book at the moment. It’s Paulo Coelho’s The Fifth Mountain and details the life (I’m assuming based on biblical writings) of the Prophet Elijah. Last night, I read a very long chapter that I’d been sitting on reading for a few nights as I’ve been so spent recently when I’ve got into bed.
When I turned the lights off, I knew that last night’s dream was going to be particularly multifarious and vivid. It was.
A particular highlight of the dream was a group of about thirty Chinamen taking the stage (they appeared to be waiting for some reason) of a highly ornate London theatre. In their hands, they held fans which they began flapping at breakneck speed – so much so they set the theatre on fire! That’s right, on fire. So my sister and I evacuated the theatre via the stairs at the back. As we ran up the stairs, I held her hand continually telling to keep going. That’s where that section ended and switched to walking out on the street, my sister vanishing.
Now it gets differently interesting. I start walking with a good looking chap, reminiscent of a fitness YouTuber I follow. I want to ask him if he’s gay but he then turns out to be engaged to a woman. He, to reiterate, very handsome, she, in stark contrast, very ugly. I wonder why. I ask how long they’ve been together, he says even if he’s been with her for one hour, it’s irrelevant. He seems pissed off. I push him on the subject, he repeats his disdain. He then walks me through a very rough part of town, I am shocked by the hoards of dodgy people and mess we’re passing. That’s where it ends.
One dream. Lots of meaning.
We are oceans of unanswered questions, things we want to do. This particular dream makes me realise there are so many things I want to tick of the last.
What do we choose? It’s messy and we’re ambitious. It’s a clusterfuck but you know what, doesn’t have to be a bad thing. Pick something, anything and do it, see what happens. I believe, if we’re honest, this is what most do, most of the time and it’s fine.