God in his merciful goodness sent my mom over today after her dance class (yes, y'all, she's 73 and takes tap) to babysit and I got to take a nap. Oh, God is so good. And I drifted off into deep deep weird dreamland. Dreams of being pregnant and in a movie yet on a boat and not being able to find my kids and staircases that led to nowhere....it was weird but it was fun. Until some little kids woke me up. Sigh.
But before they woke me up, I had a dream.
I have been to two Vacation Bible School teacher meetings lately. So in my dream, I was the decorations lady for one of them and the theme was Ocean Life. A woman came to me and threw me all these live sea creatures, jellyfish and octopuses (or octopi for the smarties) and said, "here you go!"
Now in my dream she just dumped them on a boardroom table and walked out. And I was left scrambling, thinking - Ok! Wait! They need water! And they need salt water! Where am I supposed to come up with salt water! They are gonna die and then VBS is gonna have junk for decorations! Whoa there! and then I would look down and they would start attacking each other and I thought, oh, guys, little octupi guys, please, I have enough trouble, behave! Please!
Then Eva Rose pounded on my mattress in her oh-so-charming way of waking me up that she has and I was zapped out of dreamland...or was I?
Let me make one thing clear. I am not a Freudian. I think he was a little wackadoo. I was a psych major for a while at UT and even then I was not buying the Oedipus/Electra/-- envy stuff. I have never envied a --- in my life, for the record. I have read a bit on dream interpretation and here is my theory: most dreams don't mean much. I believe we are incredibly complicated beings who are sometimes really simple. I think that dreams are usually jumbled up reviews of your day, or ways for your brain to try and commit to memory things it has learned. They are very rarely latent, er, desires regarding your parents et cetera.
Freud needed a little therapy himself, in my humble opinion.
But today, I believe was an exception, and I knew it as soon as I awakened.
The octopuses/octopi were my children.
Lately I have really felt like my children have eight arms and they are all reaching out to me at all times. Thirty two arms. With suckers. Sticking to me. All the time.
And I feel like these four little octopi with their thirty two sucking arms have been dumped on a table with a smile and a "Here you go! Aren't they cute? Try to keep them alive!" while I stand flabbergasted, sputtering "But they need water! And not just any water, they need SALT WATER! And...food...and...love...and....what on earth else do they need??? Help me! Please! Oh no now they are fighting each other QUIT FIGHTING!"
As our friend Mark pointed out tonight at dinner, that dumper would be God. El Shaddai. Creator of the Universe. Great and Holy Octopus Dumper.
It's overwhelming. Sometimes in the chaos of messes and dinners and laundry and coughs and potty training and transitioning from the bottle to the cup I forget to be grateful, and I just focus on prying the little suckers off of me so that I can breathe.
And then I hear about a little girl named Maria. I remember how precious those sucking little arms are. I beg forgiveness from the Octopus Dumper for forgetting that, and wrap all thirty two arms around my neck, and squeeze these beautiful octopi back just as tight as I can.