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more on today’s dream

March 17, 2015

I really need to be packing, going to the bank, and doing other stuff, but since I’m here, this must be more important.


I have the sense that I missed some of the important symbolism of my dream, but I’m not sure how to figure out which part it is. Then an image came to me: the idea of people “being the stars in their own life (or not)”.

If I think of my own life straight on, that line of reasoning doesn’t seem inherently problematic. Even though I wouldn’t actually characterize myself as the star — I’d say it’s more of an ensemble cast.

The thing is, with that image as I saw it in my mind’s eye, it further developed into watching a rehearsal of a large production in which I, Mea, am an extra. Everyone else is doing complicated choreography, in sync with each other (more or less), but I’m … in their midst… but clearly doing something completely different. I’m even wearing different colored clothes! I stand out… exactly the way “an extra” is never supposed to do.

If I was actually an extra, I’d get fired on the spot. (Rightfully so.)

But… this is MY LIFE that I’m talking about. How could I possibly be considered “an extra” in my own life?

So, this thought process… is not mine. It’s my mother. It’s Mrs. Nocerino. It’s… somebody else.


If I think about other people, obviously they are the “stars” in their own lives. No question. So, why, when I think of myself, in my own life, does it seem like it’s hubris to tell someone else I’m “starring” in my own life?

In this particular case, the other person I’m telling/did tell, was… my own other aspects? Or, I guess, this blog, but that’s hardly the same thing as talking to a person that’s not me. Even in my own head, it’s “hubris”? Really?

Because here’s the thing. I’ve been watching a lot of NCAA (men’s) basketball lately — Spouse attended UK; he and his family (and the whole state of Kentucky) are rabid UK fans. Spouse never played any sports, but I did. {My history with playing sports probably deserves its own posts. Later.}

I was… kind of terrible at anything that was a team sport. Individual performer-thingy, though? I ranged from pretty good to excellent.



The types of things that are “my own thing”… are not ensemble things. Ensembles require planning, coordination, choreography. All things I avoid. I am spontaneous/impulsive, highly individualistic, and a free spirit who is constantly improvising.

But… that kind of behavior… doesn’t really lend itself to a theater production, does it? I mean, it’s maybe one person on stage by themselves.

And that’s why… I said “ensemble” in the first place! I wasn’t thinking of other human beings: I was thinking of trees and rivers and rocks and bumblebees and salamanders. Who are parts of my watershed along with me. I’m “never alone” in that sense.

But I keep having the feeling, when I talk to other human beings, that, if I were “on stage” Doing My Life… what they would see is one human being on an empty stage. But what’s actually present is one human being embedded in their habitat, with millions of other organisms all around.

I… know this already. I have all sorts of metaphors about this.

What am I missing?

In the dream, I barely glanced at the garments that were beautiful, colorful, “my own”, the garments that enticed me and I found appealing, in favor of something (to my eyes) plain, ugly, wasn’t going to ‘fit’, “not mine”. And I did that because…

I wanted to feel what it felt like, and only then, see what it looked like… to Be Attractive By Other People’s Standards.

I put on my dream-mother’s YELLOW robe, and still didn’t get it!


I really do have deep-seated issues with BEING INVADED and MY OWN SPACE and, certainly, body image.

But the dream isn’t entirely about those, is it?

No matter what obstacles I’ve encountered… that have perhaps given me a breather which I could have used to reconsider the path I was on… I’ve persisted in chasing shit that doesn’t hold any promise to FULFILL MY OWN NEEDS AND WANTS. That, in fact, erases my own needs and wants from my awareness.

I’ve done this… so I can “be loved and wanted”, but of course, the thing that is “loved and wanted” is nothing like me. That’s the whole fucking point. I never wear black. I would never wear a padded bra. I would never wear an unadorned black bikini??!? Never ever ever.


How is this playing out in my life right now?

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