Last night I dreamt a lot of the dark. The unknown. The fearful.
I dreamt I was in my childhood home, housesitting I believe. It’s the house my dad still occupies. I was in the house, trying to close it up. Anxiously moving from floor to floor, door to door, closing curtains, turning locks. It was growing dark. I felt fearful of the dark, I wanted to hole up in the light, safe house. I felt strangely alone. Alone with the impending dark.
Later I dreamt I was getting into an elevator. I could go up and meet someone who was waiting for me, but I had a vision of what up would look like and decided to go down. The elevator was dark. It was night outside. The elevator began churning downwards and I was filled with trepidation. Why was I alone? What was on the top floor, was there really someone waiting for me? What, even more pressing a question, was on the bottom floor, to where I was headed? The elevator suddenly stopped. I could hear footsteps outside the elevator and I was bubbling over with fright. Whose footsteps were they? They sounded daunting. The elevator doors weren’t opening, either. It was so dark in there. The buttons wouldn’t work to take me back up. I was going down and there was no going back. Suddenly the elevator began to pressurize, I was nearly floating. I couldn’t get the elevator to move, I could hear the footsteps, and the pressurization was causing me to fall to the very edge of consciousness, fighting to stay awake…
And then, boom, the dream ended. That was it.
What the heck, right?
I’m very intune with my dreams, I always have been. I’m very in touch with my own subtle energy. I have dream books but, in this rare case, I’ve chosen not to use them as resources. I’m going, instead, strictly on intuition. I believe I’m dreaming of the dark as a sign for just that: my intuition. I’ve been in the driver seat of some serious decision making, lately. Decisions about the future, my future…my life. I’ve never been comfortable with solo decision making. Deciding has always been a process in which I recruit as many aides as I’m able. Particularly my mom. I do need her support. My dad’s also. But I’ve been known to yammer on to strangers about the vague details of my ensuing decisions. Searching hungrily through their eyes for a hint at what it is I might be “meant” to do.
I always know what I’m meant to do. Deep down. My intuition is strong. It’s a current running through me, it always has been, but for some reason the stronger it is the more worried I am about listening to it. I need agreement, concurrence, support from the outside. Why is that, I wonder? I feel the pulsing current within me, guiding me in the right direction, so why don’t I just follow?
I’ve always been starving for approval. Overly concerned with disappointing others. I’m a self-professed, chronic “people pleaser.” Always have been. It’s simply in my nature. But, as I always say, our nature is changing. I was a very confident little kid and, while I always craved the approval and support of my parents, I believed in myself. Somewhere along the line, though, I grew insecure in my own decision making process. I lost sight of my energy’s ability to light the way.
I learned something this weekend, again from my beautiful teacher Melanie Salvatore-August. She calls it, “moving my prana.” POWERFUL. Mel led our Tribe through an incredible Chakra meditation with an affirmation per chakra on Saturday. Mynx Inatsugu, my other stunning teacher, led us through a stirring pranayama practice on Sunday. The combination of these two practices have had a profound impact on me. I now understand what it is to “move one’s prana.” Move one’s life force, one’s energy.
First thing this morning I practiced asana, followed by pranayama, finished with meditation. The day that followed was powerful. I felt more connected to my life force, my prana, than I ever had before. I realized it’s something I truly can harness.
These dreams of darkness are a sign for me, to trust my inner light. The light is who I truly am, it’s my True Self. The subtle reminder to trust my own divine intuition comes to me gently, in my slumber, a nudge to not fear the darkness. To not fear the unknown. To not fear the pressure. Because no one else, not anyone in the world, can tap into this intuition.
No one can sense what direction is best for me but myself. The compass is my inner light, and it is always with me, its current strong and resonating. I’m not afraid of the dark anymore.