The White Whale

I am not the type to blog about a dream, but here I am, doing just that. I hope I don’t bore you!

As is standard for me with dreams, I have forgotten much of it. When I awoke, details were already slipping away and I chose a mad dash for the bathroom rather than fumbling around for a pen and pissing myself. (Seemed like the right choice, at the time.) And might I also add that dreaming about whales is fairly common for me, although I have always in the past dreamed of orcas. (I dream more about killer whales than any other animal by a long shot, and that’s saying quite a bit; given I love and obsess over animals – all animals – to such an extent you may as well call me a junkie.)

Last night’s dream was more about symbolism than getting every little detail right. It involved a perplexing body of water that at times seemed vast and wild and then shrank to a swimming pool size – even walled in like a pool. In this water was a pod of beluga whales. It was clear both that I knew each whale in the pod individually, and that I had once frequently went to this place regularly, but hadn’t been there in some time.

There was a group of other people in this dream, but I can’t remember them all. Most definitely, my overcontrolling mother and the last man I loved whom for whatever reason continues to show up in my dreams despite me no longer loving him and not seeing in almost two years were there. A couple of good friends I feel at times I’ve neglected since I moved back home were there. There were maybe an additional couple of people. It seemed like they were driving me crazy.

For some reason, I agreed to take them to this place that was my sacred hideout. We had to go by a small boat. The water was very much like the ocean on a boat traditionally is: Silent, seemingly eternal, and tranquil in a way the modern world could afford to take lesson from. And all these people in the boat were complaining nonstop. I’m not sure about what, but they were just constantly talking and it was an extremely annoying cacophony that was hard to hear or think over. It seemed to me to at least partially represent the control, criticism, and judgement I at times feel are so suffocating in my life.

But as we got closer and closer to where I sensed the whales would be, the human voices began to fall away. I was no longer hearing them, but the call of the water. Finally, I told them we should stop. Still immune to the din, I dove into the water while the boat was still moving.

That sensation was as real as it gets, for a dream. The water hit my chest like a weight and was so cold that every last remaining urge to listen to the people around me was instantly forgotten. I took on a new, graceful form as I glided below the surface through the water. Occasionally, I would break the surface for a breath and briefly hear the muffle of their talking, and then it disappeared again as I went back under.

I haven’t been for a proper ocean swim in longer than I care to admit, and it’s a frustrating amount of time, given that I live close enough to the ocean that my excuses for not doing so should be limited. For much of my life, I have been able to do so and have considered the ocean therapeutic. I usually swam far out until I could barely see anyone on land. Beyond the waves and surfers, and in my own private little paradise. Here, I was free to be alone in the fullest sense of the word. I would finally give up the strong swimming it took to get out there and lie on my back in the water. All my troubles melted away with every lap of water over me, as I slowly sunk beneath the surface. It was always as if I had been renewed and some part of me was set free. And then, as soon as nirvana had been reached and I began to return, the problems of the world slowly came back – but at a far more muted, manageable pace. The at times violent trip back to shore were at the very least reminders of what was to come in a world that so often feels out of my control.

The rest of this dream was spent, swimming with the whales in the pod. It was as peaceful as if I had been swimming in the ocean, itself, and yet left me wishing I could do just that, again. But as much as I’d love to go swimming, I have things to do at home! I feel as energized by this dream as if I had actually taken that much-needed swim. Maybe I will get some things accomplished this week and reward myself with an ocean trip, later.


About mindymayhem

Atheist gal with a pit bull.
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