I woke myself up screaming last night.
I was dreaming that my teeth were falling out and that I couldn’t do anything to stop them.
I’ve had similar dreams before—of teeth falling out—but that doesn’t make the dream any easier.
It’s a horrible feeling to have your teeth fall out. There’s nothing you can do to stop it. You’re helpless. Out of control. Aware that these are permanent teeth that are permanently falling out. Understanding that this is really, really bad but being paralyzed from doing anything about it.
Last night, just after my teeth began to fall out—mouthfuls at a time—my mouth immediately changed shapes and my speech immediately shifted. I didn’t know how I would eat. Or sing. Or do anything important to me. I was falling apart. Literally.
Yet those closest to me just laughed. They laughed!
And I woke up screaming.
Teeth falling out dreams are evidently very common. In fact, I just stumbled upon an entire website devoted to interpreting the dreams (http://www.teethfallingoutdream.org/dream-about-teeth-falling-out/). The site says that, “Despite the negative associations that dreams about teeth falling out conjure, a complete interpretation of this common teeth dream also gives insight about positive meanings.” It then lists five keys to interpreting teeth dreams:
• Dreams about teeth falling indicate times of change and feeling of loss;
• Positive meanings: starting something new, period of growth and development;
• Negative meanings: insecurity, ambivalence, cost of inaction or compromising;
• Teeth falling out are dream symbols of costly compromise, lack of balance, insecurity;
• The intensity of the emotions in the dream are a reflection of tension felt in real life.
I’m guessing I woke up screaming because I’m a big stress ball this week—because my dream was reflecting my tension in real life. Being out of the office for a couple of weeks was wonderful, but it has left me disorganized and behind and completely unbalanced in life. I don’t know how to balance work with family with friends with church with Sabbath with passion with pleasure with transparency with boundary with wisdom with honesty with calling with self with expectation with longing with God with faith with calling with rest with life. I wrote about transitions on Monday. I am in transition. I have experienced some degree of loss. I am insecure and somewhat unable to act because I feel quite overwhelmed and extremely tired. And so…
I dream about my teeth falling out and I wake up screaming.
“Come to me all you who are burdened and are tired. Come to me and I will give you rest. Take my easy yoke, and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble and mild. And you will find rest for your weary soul. Oh come to me.”
I’m coming, Jesus. With a mouth full of teeth and prayers for positive growth and development rather than the helplessness I felt in my dream last night, I’m coming…
Showing posts with label transition. Show all posts
Showing posts with label transition. Show all posts
Thursday, July 19, 2012
Monday, July 16, 2012
Pink Pants and A Blue Dress
The summer after I graduated from Meredith College, I went to Camp Mundo Vista as the assistant director. After an insanely wonderful summer, I had to leave camp, two weeks early, to start work at my first school. I remember how nervous I was that first day and how much I missed camp. I remember seeing a kindergarten teacher dressed in pink pants and seeing the art teacher for the first time. She was from Philly and wore a blue dress. I had no idea that she’d become one of my dearest friends and that the pink pants wearing kindergarten teacher would become one of the teachers that I admire most in this world—and one whose first child I helped pray into this world.
Her class was my favorite class that year. I loved when her students and assistant arrived for music. We had such a great time together. It’s hard to believe that those same kids have now graduated from high school! My all-time favorite student was in that kindergarten class. One day, when I wore a new necklace, he came up to me and asked, “Who gave that to you? Your huzzzzzzband?” I remember that moment with such clarity. I also remember a moment with her class during which we were playing rhythm sticks. More clearly than at any other time in my life, I heard God whisper to me, “This is where I’ve called you for now. But this isn’t forever. There is more for you to do.”
And then there’s that blue dress wearing art teacher. That first year we taught together, Barb and I were on opposite ends of the school. I had a room on the kindergarten hall and she had a hut with the 3rd graders. On occasion, I ventured down to her hut and we sat together and talked. Her accent was thick and hard to understand. One day she said she needed to order crowns. I had no idea why she needed to order crowns. I was imagining classrooms full of students wearing Burger King crowns when I finally realized that she was actually saying crayons :-).
Through our eight years together, B and I became really good friends. We worked at four schools together, teaching hundreds of students, preparing for countless programs, and tie-dying thousands—literally thousands—of t-shirts. She cooked foods that were new and exotic to me and drastically expanded my food pallet and ability to eat spicy things. She also introduced me to the Asian Market, at which I almost threw up because of the strong smell of fish!
One Christmas, I ventured into the Asian Market to buy B a gift certificate. I braced myself for the smell and went in saying, “For the love of B. For the love of B. I’m only doing this for the love of B.” :-) I was at the hospital when her daughter was born. I went to her grandmother’s funeral. I’ve visited her family members in the hospital. I cleaned her parent’s house for a few months. I helped her build a dog-turned-goat pen. B’s art work decorates my house and the orange fish she has given me make up the largest portion of my orange fish collection. B is one of my dearest friends. And I am so grateful that our lives collided.
I can’t tell you exactly why my pink pants wearing and blue dress wearing friends popped into my mind today, but I can tell you this: that first year of teaching—that transition from college to camp to the real world—wasn’t easy. But I made it. And I came out with some dear friends and life-long memories. Today, as I transition back to the office after being out for two weeks, I am reminded that transitions are rarely easy. Yet I know that I will make it. And I know that I will find blessings along the way. And I know that you will, too.
Her class was my favorite class that year. I loved when her students and assistant arrived for music. We had such a great time together. It’s hard to believe that those same kids have now graduated from high school! My all-time favorite student was in that kindergarten class. One day, when I wore a new necklace, he came up to me and asked, “Who gave that to you? Your huzzzzzzband?” I remember that moment with such clarity. I also remember a moment with her class during which we were playing rhythm sticks. More clearly than at any other time in my life, I heard God whisper to me, “This is where I’ve called you for now. But this isn’t forever. There is more for you to do.”
And then there’s that blue dress wearing art teacher. That first year we taught together, Barb and I were on opposite ends of the school. I had a room on the kindergarten hall and she had a hut with the 3rd graders. On occasion, I ventured down to her hut and we sat together and talked. Her accent was thick and hard to understand. One day she said she needed to order crowns. I had no idea why she needed to order crowns. I was imagining classrooms full of students wearing Burger King crowns when I finally realized that she was actually saying crayons :-).
Through our eight years together, B and I became really good friends. We worked at four schools together, teaching hundreds of students, preparing for countless programs, and tie-dying thousands—literally thousands—of t-shirts. She cooked foods that were new and exotic to me and drastically expanded my food pallet and ability to eat spicy things. She also introduced me to the Asian Market, at which I almost threw up because of the strong smell of fish!
One Christmas, I ventured into the Asian Market to buy B a gift certificate. I braced myself for the smell and went in saying, “For the love of B. For the love of B. I’m only doing this for the love of B.” :-) I was at the hospital when her daughter was born. I went to her grandmother’s funeral. I’ve visited her family members in the hospital. I cleaned her parent’s house for a few months. I helped her build a dog-turned-goat pen. B’s art work decorates my house and the orange fish she has given me make up the largest portion of my orange fish collection. B is one of my dearest friends. And I am so grateful that our lives collided.
I can’t tell you exactly why my pink pants wearing and blue dress wearing friends popped into my mind today, but I can tell you this: that first year of teaching—that transition from college to camp to the real world—wasn’t easy. But I made it. And I came out with some dear friends and life-long memories. Today, as I transition back to the office after being out for two weeks, I am reminded that transitions are rarely easy. Yet I know that I will make it. And I know that I will find blessings along the way. And I know that you will, too.
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