Several nights ago I had a dream that I can't get out of my head:
I was walking through a sleepy town on a cool but pleasant evening when I came across a beautiful and dimly lit building that I immediately recognized as a church. Drawn to it, I came close and was invited inside by a kindly man. All those in attendance were holding candles (I had seen this from the exterior) and I was immediately overwhelmed with a sense of peace and serenity. All was right in the world. I felt safe and welcomed. This feeling carried me through the night, and was with me when I woke up.
When I woke up I felt confused. I haven't been to church in ages & I wondered what the meaning of the dream was. Should I begin looking for churches in the area? The feeling was so strong that it was difficult for me to sort out dream from reality.
I discussed the dream--and my interpretation--with a friend.
I was drawn to the light of the church, to the candles, to the beauty. In short, I was drawn to the spectacle of the church. Once inside, I felt feelings of safety, serenity, and peace...things that I have hoped religion would provide me in the past. But the truth is that safety, serenity, and peace don't lie within a candle, or within a building. And that the promise of these things (and yes, I believe that all organized religions offer this promise) has left me feeling as though I personally have come up "short" in the past. If I don't feel peaceful and safe it is the result of personal failure or lack of faith. Pray more. Worry less.
As I expressed my confusion she empathized for my experience. She teared up and said that such a dream would likely land her on an inpatient psychiatric unit. She has so successfully convinced herself that religion isn't the answer that even the promise of it in a dream would be distressing.
After what had been a wonderful day, I came home with only enough time to make a few phone calls and fall into bed. I had plans to be productive tomorrow. I lit candles in my living room and made my first phone call before walking into the kitchen of my rental apartment to find.....? My ceiling split open and my roof leaking. Puddles on my floor. (Immediate thoughts: Will I have to move? How much will this cost my landlord? Will they help me move? Will they turn up the heat while they re-roof my house in the middle of winter & leave me with the bill? Will the roof cave in while I sleep?)
I was immediately driven into a somewhat productive state of anxiety. I called my boyfriend, I called my mom, I cleared the area. I fretted over my cat, who was anxiously pacing the kitchen and looking at me with wide eyes. Then I came to bed with candles in hand, turned on Glen Hansard on my I-Tunes, and decided to start a blog. The truth is that as much as I wish I could find all my answers in a dimly lit room with kindly candle-holding Christians, sometimes I will need to make my own peace and create my own sense of safety. Maybe I can remind myself to just breathe if I take a moment to sit down and be introspective. I don't have the money for therapy right now, although I'm a huge proponent. Blogging it is.
