Saturday, December 15, 2012

Feedback on the symbolism of a dream.

This is a continuation from yesterday's post: Do you ever feel worthless?


After a long day of once again searching for a sense of worth, I had a dream. . . .
 
Doctor Jones (my two-year-old baby girl) called to me from the front room.  "Mama.  Mama.  Look!"
    I ran into the glowing room.  A window rested open and the wind danced through, making my baby's curly brown hair sway.  The maroon and golden curtain swept the floor next to her tip-toed, chubby feet.  The hardwood floors seemed a bit misty from the dust particles the sunrays illuminated.
    "What are you doing, baby?" I asked, because she held an arrangement of sorts up to the light streaming through the window.

This is the exact arrangement she held in my dream (without the vase):

Photobucket 

    "What are you doing?" I asked again.
    "I'm making art," she squealed, so very proud of herself.  The arrangement looked ordinary until it hit the light, then it glistened so only the best parts gleamed.
    But as I looked at her, the arrangements she thought was so beautiful was not the art.  It was her.  She looked like an angelic figurine, tiptoed and straining toward the sun.
    I watched her for a long time, wondering over the deeper meaning, then I woke up.

    I know this dream could mean so many things.  My daughter could represent the person I want to be inside, striving for the sun, thinking I'm making something that will transform my worth--when (like everyone) worth is already inside.  Or it could show how the arrangement was always exceptional, it just needed to be near the window.  We can take the good instead of focusing on the bad.
    It also made me reflect on how special each of us are.  God has given us gifts and talents, sometimes it's just hard to realize that no matter what we do, we are God's art--and that's one of the greatest things I can imagine Remember Pandora, created by Hephaestus? That tale always made me wonder, how would it feel to have been created for a purpose?  But we all are--entertwining, fitting into a puzzle we often don't understand until much later.  Even my son Zeke, who lived a few short months.  We all have a purpose.  Without Zeke, I would have never pursued my dream of writing.  I would be a completely different person.  His life had meaning.
    What do you take from this dream?  Do you see any deeper symbolism here?
    I look forward to your feedback.