I’ve been chewing over a dream I had a couple of nights ago. I was back in the house where I grew up, and I was basically being held captive there. By whom, I don’t know. I just know I wasn’t allowed to leave the basement.
But I discovered one of the windows could be opened wide enough for me to get through. Our house was a split entry, so the basement was partially belowground. There were several windows right at ground level, and one of them could be slipped from its hinge. Which, by the way, was true, and we kids sometimes did crawl in and out of these windows. Dream-me, though, just discovered it, and I decided to get out. I packed up a bag, perhaps a backpack of some kind (interesting choice, given my life events), and prepared to leave at night.
I remember being concerned because I was running out of Synthroid, which I have to take every day, and I didn’t have much money. Those two things come from my real life–I just had to reorder my Synthroid, and I’m still not very far from broke–and I was just hoping both would hold out long enough for me to get . . . somewhere. I think I was trying to get to Oregon, because I knew my parents would help me if I could reach them. But I didn’t know how I’d get there. I just had to leave as quickly as I could. There was no doubt in my mind I had to leave right then, and not wake up my captors as I left. Because they’d come after me and try to take me back and pen me up again.
I think this dream was a manifestation of feeling stuck in my life again. Before I went to Japan, I was feeling trapped in that childhood home. My bedroom was in the basement I was trying to escape from in my dream. I think that’s why I never saw my captors. They weren’t important. It was just the feeling of being trapped, like I couldn’t leave. Kind of like now.
But there was a way out. It required daring. Courage. A certain disregard for practical obstacles. There was a way out.
I’m gonna have to think about that.