Jesus is my Superman!

I had some crazy dreams last night. C-R-A-Z-Y. This is not all that unusual for me. I am a light sleeper. I often have lots of dreams in one night and wake up remembering bits and pieces from several. A lot of the time I wake up feeling emotionally drained from all that's happened while I was sleeping. Some of the most intense emotions I've ever felt have been while dreaming.

What I remember from last night is one dream about trying to set my sister up with a friend of ours back in Maryland. It was a comedy of errors. Thank goodness Risha did not have to live through that. The next dream was much more serious. Mom and Dad had finally agreed to see a counselor together. We were all at some large boarding house and they were in a room across the hall in the middle of their first session. There was a lot of yelling. I mean, pretty much constant yelling, from both of them. Then, at some point I walked over, opened the door and saw the counselor just sitting at a table in the middle of the room, taking notes. A few minutes later, he told them it was time to go and I noticed my sister sleeping on a couch on the far side of the room. She sat up and walked over to me and I asked how she could sleep through all of that. She said, "I was just pretending to sleep," and gave me a very knowing smile.

I'm pretty sure this dream was triggered by a phone conversation I had w/ my Mom yesterday, but here's the weird part:

I woke up wanting to post about some of my own counseling (therapy) experiences. I've had a story brewing for some time now about seeing my first therapist after my son Sam was born, but it's going to take lots of time and work, both of which I have in short supply now that it's summer and there is no such thing as quiet time at my house. I try to squeeze it in while Benjamin is napping, but those other two kids are not totally self-sufficient. Imagine that, at 5 and 8. Why can't they make their own darn lunches?

Anyway, Ben is napping now, and I just read an e-mail from my Mom telling me about her own interesting dream from last night. Then, I hopped over to the Rabbit Room and found this song posted. WOW! I guess God is doing some real work while we sleep. And, He wants us to look at our lives. To "look them in the eyes," as my friend hamster recently put it. We put so much time and effort into burying these things, pretending they don't exist. But those bony hands claw the top of the coffin endlessly.

You wanna know where addictions and self destructive behavior come from? When people can't silence the scratching past, they turn to other noises in an attempt to drown them out. I've seen it happen again and again, and I myself am guilty of putting butterfly band-aids where stitches should be.

When will we be brave enough to dig deep, and let Jesus resurrect our sorrows? He's the only one who can cause those dry bones to dance!


(I know some of you may be wondering about my title and picture, and I wish I could explain, really I do. But for now, trust me, it makes sense. Maybe some day, you'll get the rest of the story.)


Janna said...

Just so you know, I'm not saying everyone HAS to go to therapy. The movie "Reign over me" is a great example of how a wise, caring friend can be just as helpful. However, I hate the negative stigma associated w/ therapy; it is really helpful for a lot of people. While other methods of "coping" often are not.

Rachel said...

I wish people could all be bold enough to realize the source of their need for distraction, as you so eloquently nailed it on the head. This helps me find words to pray and with which to petition God on behalf of some of the people I love most deeply. Thanks.

the hamster said...

your post put me in mind of this little bit in the modest mouse song "doin' the cockroach" that says:

"One year / Twenty years / Forty years / Fifty years / Down every the road in your life / You'll look in the mirror / And say, my parents are still alive."

i mean, i know that's not exactly what you're saying here. it just put me in mind of that song.

good stuff here, janna. real good. i like this thing here about the scratching past. it's a bugger. comes in all sorts of forms and volumes and stereo equipment.

me and the wife have an interesting summer about us. we are both working very few hours. we have loads of time and just enough money on our hands these days. mornings are fine for books and coffees. afternoons for writing and ales. and the evenings in the republic are fine for long walks and turtle hunting in the creek beds nearby. and right here in the middle of it all, in the niceness of our summertime suburbia, on the outskirts of a normally busy life, i hear that scratching etching up in amongst the birdcalls and jessi colter records. we've gotten ourselves real still around here, slowed outselves down, and it's time to deal with a few things. dig up a few boxes and shake the clacketies around a spell.

i'm hoping for some good writing to grow out of it too.

thanks for being so bold.

say, did you hear that the dude who invented the pringles chip can bit it recently? yeah, and his dying wish was that some of his ashes be buried in a pringles can. i mean, life (and death) is better than fiction sometimes.

Amber said...

Yes. Janna, that's some good stuff. If we ignore that scratching past for too long, some sort of awful zombie becomes us, and we just start doing things we weren't meant to do. You're so right about facing it head on.

Thank you.