Hanging With Mr. Moray
Posted by Emmie Mears
The word dream can mean many different things. It’s especially vulnerable to preceding qualifiers like “good,” “day,” “bad,” and “wet.”
It can be lofty, as in, “I have a…”
It can be surreal, like the nightmare I had once about explosive killer pickles.
Dreams are heady things.
But unfortunately, dreams occasionally come with side effects.
Caution: May cause dizziness, hair loss, extreme euphoria, unexpected tears, sudden outbursts, troubled sleep, anxiety, and a sense of calm. May experience multiple side effects simultaneously.
The type of dreams that most often causes such tumultuous effects is none other than the ones that live in the back of your mind, determining future actions and/or cases of severe regret.
They live there because you put them there, and they don’t take kindly to eviction. In fact, these Settler Dreams take on a process of evolution on their own. They infiltrate the parts of your brain that tackles Big General Life Knowledge. These areas of attack are:
- Should pay bills
- Food = staying alive
- Job with benefits?
- Family misses you
- Not homeless
- Spouse needs words, not mumbles
These dreams come in and shunt all of those other things to the side, clipping the wires to each with a ruthless efficiency akin to that of the Spanish Inquisition.
Once you’ve been effectively turned into a mindless, dream-seeking automaton, something else happens.
This guy takes up residence in your chest.
Yes. Your chest.
He lives there as soon as you launch yourself in pursuit of the Big Dreams. Part of his arrival is in direct correlation to the Big Dream infiltrating your brain and snipping the wires to the aforementioned areas. Another part is because pursuit of the Big Dreams is a natural cause of anxiety and IBS.
Imagine Mr. Moray nestled between your ribcage and your skin. Whenever he moves, he squiggles about, and sometimes flaps his wings. This causes a fluttery feeling that can intrude during dinner parties and whilst watching television.
Mr. Moray thinks your dreams are cause for dancing. So he dances. Often. And with flailing movement. He doesn’t much care that he’s located in your chest next to all your vital-y organ bits. Nick the heart with a pinion? Dance-dance-dance. Flap his tail between your ribs and smack a lung? Dance-dance-dance.
He thinks he’s on your side, but the rest of you gets to put up with his fluttering in your chest while you wait to hear back on your Big Dream.
If you decide to pursue your dreams, he’ll be there.
I just hope you’re not pursuing my exploding pickle dream. Eating up to four of them is fine. It’s the fifth one that kills you.
If you’ll excuse me, I think Mr. Moray is stuck in my throat.
Have you met Mr. Moray? Has he taken up residence in your chest recently? What dreams are you pursuing, and how many lines to Normal Life Stuff have they severed?
Share some magic!
About Emmie MearsSaving the world from brooding, one self-actualized vampire at a time.
Posted on September 27, 2012, in life intervention, writing business and tagged anxiety, Dream, Dream Journals, Dream Sharing, goals, Moray, motivation, Psychology, Social Sciences, Spanish Inquisition, Theories and Research. Bookmark the permalink. Comments Off on Hanging With Mr. Moray.
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