Of course dreams are surfacing again. Everything is about to change.
I was in my childhood home, just past the kitchen, standing by the dining room table. Someone I watch for clues about navigating-the-world walked in the door leading through the kitchen, that connects the garage to the laundry room. The door had been unlocked, it remained open as he walked over to me with a backpack on his back. We sat down on the ground next to the table (where I used to lay in front of the large speakers my brother had, while letting the sound vibrate through my body as a teenager listening to the 5 cd's we had growing up) and I showed this person my illustrations, inside of published books, trying to prove something - I'm not sure why I needed him to see that. He did not see what I showed him, so I gave up and listened. With a deep, tired gravitas, he talked about not wanting to leave the country for some temporary visit, being afraid of missing things, events, a religious ceremony while he is gone. Eventually he got up to leave, and for some reason, it was important to me to lead him through the house and out of the front door instead - only the front room looked like the attic of a church, and there were shadows of my siblings moving around beyond the pillars and archways, like parishioners scattered in contemplation, or Quasimodo the bell-ringer going about his day.
Its always been my mother's bedroom in the past - that was the way out, the open window in her room giving me access to the outside world. Now I can't stop thinking about the open garage door - where I would climb on my bike and ride off alone for hours when I was angry but unallowed to express or feel that feeling. That path, alongside the garage would become wrapped in banana spiders every autumn, dozens as large as my hand, that I would talk to - to convince them I meant them no harm. Architecture usually refers to the structures of self, and I am discovering that side doors often relate to the parts of ourselves we keep hidden. An open or unlocked door can signify entering a new stage in ones life, new opportunities and ideas. Why that person might be entering to greet me through this stage/opportunity, but sharing their regrets about growing beyond their own boundaries is hard for me to quite fathom yet.
This person has been mentioning a religious upbringing a lot recently - which I am deeply curious about, but I miss opportunities to explore it because I keep filling the space with my need to be seen. It feels like he wrestles with himself, saying surface things with many hidden layers beneath them, or searches the space between things for something he can't quite see. Once he told me that no one asks the right questions, and there was a deep, internal softness to his voice I have not heard since. I think about that moment often. It seems strange but specific - obvious in some illusive way - that I would lead him through the chambers of my internal space as it shifts to become church-like.
I almost wonder if this dream was more for him then it is for me. Or a premonition, a glimpse of something yet-to-be.
*** After more dream research
People in our dreams are often aspects of ourselves. Columns are related to our supports/foundation, and while Church makes me think of institutions, I think here it is quite simply a place of reverence, the communal space of having faith - seeing that the garage speaks to the ways we propel ourselves forward in life, and I associate pulling my bike out to ride out my rage as a kid, transitioning from being propelled by anger to something deeper and more supported, loving even, since I encountered my siblings (stand ins for my bredren in so many ways) - I think my lack of faith in myself has been holding me back, allowing hateful people to pull me out of myself.
It's amazing to be exploring new rooms in the house-that-is-me in my dreams, like coming home in New ways, over and over.
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