“Almost nothing was under my control.”
In my mouth, a single piece of bubble gum inexplicably quadrupled in size and I couldn’t speak, nor could I spit it out. The tornado formed in the distance and I ran the other way. The brakes on my car went out and I did my best to avoid oncoming traffic. A serial killer was hunting for me in my apartment building and I was running out of places to hide. I was trying to outrun two drug dealers through the streets of Brooklyn but I was having trouble catching my breath.
These are the same recurring dreams I have had for the past twenty years. It doesn’t take a Freudian psychologist to determine that a central theme is being explored in my subconscious. Apparently, I don’t like it when things are out of my control.
What is happening in my wakened state that would prompt such dreams, one might ask. What might I be doing that would cause such stress and feelings of being out of control? Am I an undercover operative for a governmental agency? Am I a stunt-woman? Am I trying to beat the Guinness World’s Record for keeping eggs intact during the world’s longest egg race? Am I the type of woman who thrives in chaos and loves drama?
In actuality, my life could not be more boring. I am a wife, mother of two, who works part-time as a Writing Tutor. Two cats, a nice car, and a Brooklyn apartment with outdoor space – this completes the picture of who I am.
Perhaps it’s because of my boring life that my subconscious feels the need to add some excitement to my average existence? Does part of me really like feeling as though nothing is under my control?