So my current feature project for school has an element of frogs…which might be why last night I dreamed of frogs. I was in a pet store or somewhere, and needed to find a good environment for them (I think there were two). One escaped, but I got it back. But then I realized the frog was a fish. Someone was prepping the tank, trying to make the water right, but meanwhile the other fish was in the regular water with chlorine, but not doing so well in it. So I kept holding the fish I had petting it, trying to get it to calm down, waiting for the good water— so I could put it in and save it.
I found excerpts of Gillian Holloway’s dream book that said that fish underwater represent unconscious materials or truths about the self, but if they are in bowls or aquariums it can be that you’ve gotten into a lifestyle that is cutting you off from self expression or things you love…
Frogs can be about transformation in some way–but I couldn’t read more because the next page was not online. This is not the first time I have stumbled on this book, so I went on Amazon and ordered a copy.
All of this, I’m sure ties in with how I’ve been feeling lately–I was anxious and agitated most of yesterday–and there are many reasons that I could site–travel problems, and parking problems, etc…but really they are all about my current mood landing square on whatever circumstances present themselves.
I skipped yoga last night, and skipped homework as well, and instead rebelliously read half a book Alice Munroe short stories…it has been so long since I escaped into language that isn’t afraid to use extra words. I wonder if this is related to my subconscious fish problems.
I have always loved my laptop and considered it my friend, but of late I find myself repulsed by the thought of opening it–more the repulsion is toward all the things I’m obligated to write. the feature most of all I find myself dreading to look upon.
The other day in workshop, I am ashamed to admit how immature I was, reacting to people’s comments with facial expressions and even the occasional outburst. I’ve always prided myself on accepting criticism with composure, but composure seems to have fled out the door lately. I think I went in with such hopes that the class would help me refine the story I thought I had blocked in, but then the interpretation of the characters’ basic elements deviated so fundamentally, that the discussion felt like a brainstorm for an entirely different plot. This is hardly the first time that has happened in a workshop either, but for some reason I find myself more frustrated. I have to turn a re-draft in tomorrow and have yet to open the document, so intense is my resistance to revisit the whole scenario.
There is a problem, but is it my external environment, or the internal walls I am putting up?