 |
|
|
|
Issue 16, December 1999Space Invaders©Jane Teresa Anderson, December 1999
The two red and white missiles sped soundlessly and ominously in from the right, determinedly on target. Microseconds after plunging into the playing field the ground silently folded over them, leaving no trace. The children played on as if nothing had happened while I stared at the unruffled surface of the grass. A dream voice-over announced, "It’s okay, Jane. These are test missiles." I was not surprised when I awoke with a sore throat. I’m rarely unwell, but I had read the signs and absorbed the message along with the bugs while sleeping. Dreams of invasion or impact, especially from the right (the outer world) often accompany bodily invasion by bacteria or viruses. In our dream state we are alert to subtle imbalances and changes within our bodies which go unnoticed while awake. Our dreams often picture bug invaders as missiles, coloured spheres or even burglars breaking into our dream house. So why did my dream soothingly inform me that the invasion was a test? As I was playing with an incredibly extensible piece of elastic in the dream I decided my flexibility was being tested in every area of my life and my physical health was to be my learning ground. Was I flexible enough, resilient enough, to live with the bug and learn from it without succumbing to it? How much was I being stretched to the limit, and would play continue uninterrupted? I extended myself to the nth degree and lived a double life of mild flu (yes, the missiles ‘flew’ in the dream with meaning) and business as usual, punctuated by the occasional unplanned nap and evenings of coughing and spluttering. I was proving my flexibility but I wasn’t as healthy as I wanted to be. I was scraping by with a C- instead of an A+ test result. "If this is resilience," I wheezed, "I don’t like it!" By this time my resources were strained and I decided to consult my "inner doctor’ that night in my dream for some extra insight and, perhaps, a magical off-the-shelf remedy. I fell off to sleep requesting a consultation with a specialist. I scored an A+ for dream incubation. I walked into a dream room to find not one doctor but about twenty of them seated in a circle waiting for me. I pulled up a chair and waited patiently (!) for their diagnosis. Silence. More silence. After a while, one of the doctors leaned forward excitedly and said, "Jane, we’re really looking forward to your workshop on dreams and yoga!" So, there it was. Of course I had no notes or plans with me in the dream, so I delivered an impromptu workshop for us all to remind me of the healing power of innate wisdom, inner yoga and dreams. On waking I realised I had been thrown back on my own resources, yet I knew I was missing something. My cold-muffled head was lacking clear insight. Fortunately James Bond came to the rescue — not in a dream, but in a crowded cinema. We had gone to the movies for an evening’s light entertainment 007 style and were packed and folded into our seats like proverbial sardines. Sitting so close to strangers I became very aware of the gurgle in my chest and the cough catching every other breath. Impossible to hold back, my coughing was more irritating than the surrounding crackling chocolate wrappers and dinky-tune mobile phones, and the health of those sitting close to me was in danger. With my resilience score plummeting to about an F- I was rapidly failing the flu test and feeling extremely guilty. The missiles were about to explode and my chances of getting thrown out of the cinema were spiraling higher. Drastic action was necessary. Forget the doctors, where was Bond? Forcing my focus I thought back to the original dream and the way in which the missiles had sunk without trace into the unruffled grass. Ah! The sudden revelation! The dream clue, which I had missed, was the stillness, the lack of impact. I realised the test was not about how much I could stretch and accommodate the flu virus at all: quite to the contrary. The test was about extending my capabilities. It was about choosing to silence the missiles, to be healthy, rather than accepting flexible compromise. Inspired by Bond’s range of impressive accessories I visualised a shining white rod of invincible light running through my bronchial tubes. Moments later I felt a tremendous heat in the area as my breathing relaxed back into oblivious ease. Not a single splutter or tickle entered the picture from that moment on. I had drawn on my own resources to reclaim my health and my self. I had sent the space invaders of all levels of my life packing. I had reclaimed my full energy, rather than draining it through over-extending myself. Later, on screen, as 007 struggled to diffuse a red and white missile-bomb, I knew that the world of dreams is more than enough to supply everything we need, as long as we pay great attention. Jane Teresa Anderson
|
|
