*A note before today’s post: if you are going through this and read the comment from a day or two ago that I wouldn’t take a shower for 6 months, don’t panic! That’s not normal; I had some weird healing issues. Generally you should be able to go back in the shower by 4 weeks post-surgery is my guess. Now onto today’s post….
I’ve heard that the most important thing about a dream is how it makes you feel when you wake from it. So, when you have that dream that you’re snuggling with kittens but you wake up scared to death, you have to look at the dream in the context of that feeling to determine what the dream is telling you.
I was having lots of dreams these days. In the weeks leading up to this day in the hospital I’d had two particular dreams that left me feeling like they were very important. In fact, even though I cannot find where I may have written about them (cause I’m sure I did) I do more or less remember them.
In the first one: I am at a bar in NYC. It turns ugly. Girls are getting attacked and I watch from a hiding place up high above the action. Eventually only I and another person or two are left there. We run in escape across a dark barren field, still in the city. I don’t know where to go to be safe. I ask the other person near me, “Where are you going to go?” She says, “There’s a safehouse for communists on the lower east side. I’m going to go there.” I say, “Yeah, that’s where I’m headed.”
So we go there, to this several story house that – as advertised – is some sort of “safehouse for communists”. (I just can’t get over how silly that seems.) Now let me clarify that “communist” isn’t a bad thing here. While unpopular, this house is not like a harbour for the likes of Stalin. The people living here are pretty much your average granolas. They believe in helping one another and living as a symbiotic group. They are socialists really.
They kindly accept me in and let me stay. But I am not really a “communist” and I don’t know how it works. I feel out of place and try to pretend that I know what I’m doing. I don’t understand whether we take turns cooking for each other, or if we cook ourselves, etc. I remember someone explaining that I can use any coffee mug I like. I just wash and put it back for the next person when I’m done. As we all sit and drink coffee pleasantly, it is announced that it is our time to do community service. We all go out ont the porch that over looks a filed and then the highway. There are empty potato chip bags everywhere and we decide our service will be to pick up the trash from the field.
Then I am on the porch and my friend Wendy is there. Here it gets fuzzy but I remember trying to make a phone call but the numbers melt off the phone. I end up taking off my shirt and showing her my scar.
What’s the deal with this dream? I think the “communists” are the Belgians. Since my conservative friends have long frustrated me by oft-confusing socialism with communism, and in reality it is the Belgian’s socialist government and ideals that are taking care of me. (Because the American system sure isn’t.) By opening their medical system to me, the socialist Belgians are welcoming me into their world and taking care of me, even though I am not really one of them.
The 2nd dream was that I had something in my foot. Something foreign in my big toe. We went to get it out so that I could walk. We cut open my big toe and there was a huge grape in there, which we take out. One of those big fat dark purple ones. I think that dream is more obvious.
Enough psycho-babble for you today. But if you’re going through this, pay attention to those dreams. They offer interesting insight to the things that are going on behind the scenes!
Next up, I’ll finally explain the mysterious health insurance situation…I have to travel again so it may take a few days to post, but if I don’t get it up by Monday, I’ll double post (or more) once in range of some wi-fi.