Dr. Jung Would Be Stumped
Last night I had a dream that I was in a bar (didn't know why until the end of the dream - believe it or not, I wasn't imbibing). I was sitting alone at a table, and in one hand I was holding a Phoenix (the bird, not the city). In the other hand I had a Bald Eagle. The two birds weren't friendly (perhaps because one is our nation's symbol and the other is, um, fictional?), so I was doing my best to keep them apart, by holding one on either side of my body.
Along came someone (I think it may have been one of my students from Sock Summit), who kindly offered me the gift of a Roadrunner.
Not wanting to be rude to my student, I graciously accepted the third bird, to whose company neither the Phoenix nor the Eagle was receptive.
My efforts to keep all of the beautiful birds from hurting one another in the resulting skirmish of beaks and claws realized one of my worst fears: My hands were pulverized into pulp. I kept pleading with the three birds, "No, no! Please not my hands - I have to knit or I'll never finish my book!".
All three birds totally ignored me, but eventually Phillip came in. I was sobbing, but he bandaged up my bleeding fingers, and helped me stuff each bird into a separate tortilla-chip basket (as people obviously would do in this situation). And now, if you ever have wondered how my mind really works, this may explain a few things:
In my dream, Phillip turned to me and said "Hey! This sounds like the beginning of an awful joke: A Phoenix, an Eagle and a Roadrunner walk into a bar..."
And that's when I woke up this morning, laughing to myself and checking my hands for peck-wounds.
I spent some time thinking about this dream, and what it might really be about. Here's what I think:
1. The Phoenix represents my imagination, and all the designs for the book I'm working on. The designs are my favorite part of the process, and of the finished product. They are my primary language - the mother tongue with which I communicate to my friends, the Knitters.
2. The Eagle stands for the government and structure in my life. Without a schedule, it's just me knitting, and wistfully thinking how great things would be if I could share my work with my soulmates in stitches.
And everything remains pretty safe for me, until the need arises to introduce:
3. The Roadrunner, who must surely be my deadline. I have to work fast and furious. I have no time for mistakes, headaches, or any other symbolic Coyotes.
That third component has clearly unleashed a few fears for me, notably that something might happen to keep me from completing the book.
Weird, no? Poor Dr. Jung really dodged a bullet by dying in time to miss this one. Lucky Bastard.