So last Tuesday I woke up sweating buckets after this crazy vivid dream about climbing a mountain. Seriously felt like I’d actually been hauling myself up rocks all night. Grabbed my notebook off the nightstand – ink’s practically smudged ’cause I was scribbling so fast trying to catch every detail before it vanished. Coffee first, obviously. Needed fuel.
The Wild Stuff I Dreamt
Saw these symbols like they were slapped on a movie screen:
- This massive, jagged peak – looked like a broken tooth stabbing the sky, totally impossible to climb. Felt tiny just looking at it.
- A backpack so heavy my knees were buckling. Could feel the straps digging in.
- Missing climbing boots. Seriously, one minute they’re there, next… gone. Standing on sharp rocks in just socks. Panic city.
- Clear blue sky above – like someone polished it. But thick, nasty fog swirling around my knees, couldn’t see my own feet.
- Some random dude halfway up, shouting down something about “letting go.” Voice echoed like crazy.
What My Gut Said About the Mess
Sat there stirring cold coffee, staring at my chicken-scratch notes. That mountain? Felt exactly like that stupid huge work project I keep dodging – terrifying, overwhelming. Makes sense my brain painted that. The heavy backpack? Nah, not gear. That’s the leftover baggage from last year’s mess-ups I keep lugging around – guilt, what-ifs, all that garbage weighing me down daily.
No boots? Hah! Classic dream jab. Totally unprepared for some real-life scramble coming my way. Makes me sweat just thinking what that might be. The fog… yeah, the uncertainty about this new gig I’m starting next month. Sky’s the promise, fog’s the fear, thick enough to choke on.
And that shouty guy? Honestly? Sounded suspiciously like my therapist’s voice mixed with my own conscience yelling inside my skull: Let. Things. Go. Probably why it echoed so loud. Brain’s not subtle.
Doing Something About It
Right. Felt too real to ignore. Did two things later that day:
- Emptied my actual backpack. Found old receipts, busted chargers, useless junk. Chucked half of it. Symbolic? Maybe. Felt lighter walking home.
- Wrote down the work project. Broke that scary mountain into tiny foothills: Step 1: Open the dang proposal doc. Step 2: Read first section… Baby steps. Less foggy.
Weird how a sweaty dream forces your hand. Still don’t know what boots I’m missing in real life, but hey – awareness is step one, right? Not throwing away that notebook yet. Brain’s clearly got more to dump on me.
