The Wounded & Healing Dream, Part 1


Last night I had a dream:

      I was in a parade here in San Diego, but not a typical looking parade. There were no floats, just people walking. Maybe even an advocacy march. But it FELT like a joyous occasion. Somewhere in the beginning of it, my ex appeared. In a fit of anger, I demanded my leggings be returned to me. They were $60 leggings I had just bought for yoga. He complied after awhile of BS about how he owed me nothing.
   Later in the parade, I saw him waking down the sidewalk. He sped up and I chased. It seemed like he was running to a secret meeting. Finally I caught up to him and asked where he was off to.
   Instantly he shoved me against the wall and demanded I never ask that again. Then with his free hand, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes. While my eyes grow wide, I asked him, “what the hell is that? What are you doing?!” He shrugged, “What? It’s only a cigarette.” So then remembering his children, I started wrestling him on the ground  trying to get them out of his hands.
   Finally, he let up and I grabbed them away, crushing them in my fists. Then he straightened up, pulls out a small digital camera and asked: “can you take a picture of me?”
    “So I can see myself.”
      Confused at this answer, and and angry a him already, I hastily replied, “No.”
Now, I don’t normally share my dreams with people but it feels like this dream has a kind of significance that I can’t quite put my finger on. If you have any ideas, I’d be open to hear about any symbolism, parallels, etc.
   Waking up, I felt confused and quite angry. I can be stubborn but the degree of stubbornness in my dream was off the charts…

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