Last weekend, February 5, I dreamed I was a whale trapped under ice. I banged my nose on what seemed a window onto the world, but, having seen the movie, I knew I would not get out. Why? Because I would keep banging my head on that piece of ice rather than move somewhat out of my comfort zone to seek a place to breathe down the line.
It was an unpleasant dream from a movie, Big Miracle, that had me leaving the theater with such warm, fuzzy feelings.
We are no longer living in the wild, but some of our instincts remain. Even when we don’t recognize them.
Last night I dreamed I was in a forest clearing on my hands and knees. My posture suggested prayer, but I can’t be certain.
Certainty was the circle of twelve black wolves that surrounded me. They all looked the same, but I knew them as individuals. They have names. And they were coming for me. I knew they were going to take me down. I did not know who would deal the final blow. I did not know if I would fight back or stay kneeling in the snow.
I knew God was not going to answer me, but not because I had no faith. I had laid the groundwork for this scene years ago. I had free will. And now it had caught up with me. I have been living in The Grey, but for over a decade have thought I was outrunning the wolves when really I was just circling the den.
Maybe next weekend I’ll go see The Vow and wake up having forgotten it all.