Take It To The Limit

I had a big dream last night and it was long. My late husband, Bob, was dying and in bed. We were staying somewhere in a small town. The radio was on and it was distracting me. I asked my sister if she could figure out how to turn it off; I hadn’t been successful. She fiddled with it, but I don’t think she was successful either.

I went into the kitchen and there was a package of ground beef on the counter and some kind of meal. I made a recipe with the two items and discovered there was no bowl, so I jut put it on the counter in a bowl-like shape. It was a disaster.

My mother and sister were both there, but I didn’t want my mother coming in. Bob’s oncologist came. He picked up Bob, who was nude, and then said that he felt pretty healthy to him. He had brought a healer with him who was having great success at various hospitals in town.

I think the healer was hairy and naked and spoke with a heavy accent. We spoke briefly, but I don’t remember what he said.

As I woke up, I was trying to remember what song was playing in my head (or on the radio. It was “Take It To The Limit” by The Eagles.

My first thought was that this was a hopeful dream for me. All regular remedies for Bob hadn’t helped and even when a doctor came, he brought a shaman with him and he left.

The shaman was a man of few words and he was getting ready to do whatever it took to get results.

And then I woke up and I lay in bed trying to remember other parts of the dream. It was a long one and my feelings in the dream were that I was being frustrated in every possible way.

Here is my own interpretation. My writing is not dying; I can take it to the limit if I listen to my heart instead of my head.

I think the dream was reassuring me that things would fall into place if I quit thinking so much. I need to pay attention to my inner shaman, who calmly goes about his business while I was quite distressed. The song is telling me to sing it.

Photo courtesy of GerhardLipold

Vicki Woodyard
P.S. Comments anyone?