A not-so-blissful dream

I'm not sure what family members I was watching with, perhaps my daughter and son-in-law, fast-forwarding through the program on the DVR.  Suddenly one of them told me to stop, to back up, and a pornographic scene began to play out on the screen.  I was appalled by what I saw, embarrassed to be seeing it with them.  I started to change the channel, but they insisted on viewing this, entertained by it.  The scene before me grew increasingly perverse, and suddenly I was not watching but present in it.  Still dismayed, I was the only one who thought anything wrong with the drunken debauchery.  Yet as the scene resolved, I didn't feel angry toward the participants who had reveled in their pleasure undeterred by and uncaring of my presence.  Instead, I went about cleaning up the mess they'd left behind, my heart full of tenderness toward them.

I awoke knowing this was God's view of my life, not of the sin over which I've wrenched my heart for so long, but of that I've tolerated or excused.  He doesn't want me to beat myself up over it.  But he wants me to see it as he does, even if the world around me would scoff at this point of view and encourage me to continue to accept or excuse what God would have me reject.

We need to be careful with our dreams, and pay them neither too much nor too little heed.  Considered properly, some of them can reveal our unconscious thoughts; others may simply be random chemical and electrical activity in our marvelous, mysterious brains.  Some of my dreams seem best ignored, others bring insight simply taken at face value, and some seem to open up with further consideration.  One way that I've been taught to analyze some of my dreams doesn't seem widely practiced, but on the few occasions I've used it I've found it most revelatory.  I doubt I'll ever forget the first dream I considered in this way, nearly 14 years ago.

Assume each element of the dream represents the dreamer in some way - some different aspect, feeling, or attitude of myself.  So it isn't just dream-me that represents me, but the dream-others, the dream setting, and the different dream-objects reflect some part of me as well.  In this dream, I am the television, revealing the impure activity.  I am the other viewers, entertained by the sinfulness on display, feeling curious and titillated and envious.  I am represented by the participants in the scene, though in the dream I was not them, taking my pleasure heedless of its effect on anyone around me.  I am the setting in which the action occurs - a restroom, actually - intended for one purpose but now perverted for another.  There are other elements, too graphic to include here, that represent my shame and humiliation.  But in the end, I am the one who sees the harmfulness of the activity and is repulsed by it, yet somehow - maybe for the first time in my life actually cutting myself some slack - still loving those (myself) who have offended, wanting something more for them (me), and trying to clean up the wrongdoing and its aftermath.

I've never considered that the final element of the dream may be the one that represents the thing I should most be aware of, but that was certainly the case in that first dream I considered in this way, and it seems true of this one, too.

Or maybe it's just another goofy, meaningless set of signals to which my brain has added context that really doesn't apply.

A blissful dream turns real

I just woke from spending a little time with someone I once loved.  (And no, I don't believe that it's possible to truly love someone, then not love them, but were she still in my life I would not love her in the same way.)  Back then, we were almost 30, far from home, very good friends, and I fell in love with her, knowing I'd soon be returning home to you and the girls, she to her husband.  Both of us were determined not to hurt our spouses, yet we relished our friendship.  We read Shakespeare together, spoke of films I still haven't seen, drank a proper tea, and she taught me to appreciate classical music.  There are things in my life that I still enjoy to which she introduced me, though that is no longer why I enjoy them.  I'm still not sure what she ever got from me, aside from an enamoured puppy.  I failed to guard my feelings, of course, and gave my heart over to her.

By then I'd gotten that anonymous Letter, not fully believing it, though I would learn upon my return home that it was true.  When I did, the only way I was eventually able to reconcile with you, my love, my bride, was to know that I had not withheld my heart from her.  Had I learned the truth and not known that I'd myself been unfaithful in all the ways that matter most - had I denied myself the full feelings and experience of that relationship for your sake and then learned of your infidelity - I don't know that I ever would have forgiven you.  As it was, I treated you poorly for most of a year.  I'm so sorry that I withheld my forgiveness and mercy and love from you for so long.

This morning, I was with her again, in a different place.  I was alone with her somewhere, first in the room of a house, aroused but for some reason not yielding to that desire.  Then she was driving me somewhere, in a city I didn't recognize, to a destination I didn't know.  In my dream, she'd written me a teasing note that I was reading as we arrived, and I tucked it into my pocket to savor later.  We entered the eatery, and in the room, there you were, bending over one of our grandchildren as my heart lingered over the excitement of her wanting me, and of wanting her in return.  In that moment, there was a choice before me, which I realized in my dream and upon waking was really no choice at all, and I walked over and kissed you, and discreetly went over and threw that note away.

This dream is important to me, especially in your absence.  There is some reality in it, though were she in my life she would take no such impropriety.  I have long since chosen you over her and all she might represent to me, and so I choose still.

I must help you hear this, love of my life.  Though I may miss my friendship with her, I know I can't be her friend again because of how I chose to love her in your place.  And I hope you know I will never again make such a decision, to love another in the way I am to love only you.  I may have friends who I treasure for who they are and the something inexpressible that they bring into my life.  But if so, they are not and will never be an attempt to recreate what I had with her.  Rather, they will always be friendships that help me be the man God is calling me to be, and in the process, to love you more fully.

I will never again give anyone a piece of myself in a way that usurps your place, that diminishes my love for you.  I'm really glad to be your husband.

And my new friend, should you read this, please know that I treasure you for who you are, and for how you don't want anything from our friendship except what God would have it be.

Lost

I'm sure it's mostly a bunch of juvenile ramblings, artificial melodrama, memories that I'm better off not reliving.  But with the original Gritswin missing, I feel as if I've lost an important chunk of my life with it.

I know I was writing in it back when IT started.  I remember writing in the hotel room in Philly, and his condescending attitude about it.  I don't remember for certain, but that may have been my first entry.  Then came later that same weekend, at the Y . . .

Passion

"It is called the passion narrative, and we are reminded that the word 'passion' is from the Latin, meaning 'to suffer.'  In a time when 'passion' is associated with heavy-breathing romance and the selling of perfumes, we are caught up short by the reminder that to love is to suffer and the suffering is not always sweet.  In real love, the stakes are high; it is risking all." - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon

This is why we honor lasting love over "falling in love."  Falling in love is easy.  It is discovering all of the interesting things about a person, the things that attract us to them.  It often involves overlooking the other's faults and embracing their newness.  It is this sort of love that people mean when they say that "love is blind."

To have a love that lasts is so much more challenging and rewarding than that.  First of all, it means deciding on a regular basis - day-by-day and month-by-month - to continue to do the sort of things that drew us to one another in the first place.  For some reason, we seem to think that "happily ever after" is a fixed point that we reach - maybe while we're cutting the cake - and that we're going to continue to live there simply by inertia unless someone really screws it up.  But when we stop doing the things that nurtured our initial love, it is going to tend to fade.  And there are plenty of reasons for not doing those things: work, kids, outside interests, other demands on our time.

The thing is, in addition to that, there is the truth that, no matter how loving we may think ourselves or aspire to be, we are still flawed human beings, with different needs and different faults which often come into conflict.  When that happens, someone is going to get hurt, and our self-preservation instincts kick in at that point to protect us from further injury.  And if we aren't actively tending the relationship, if we've stopped doing those things that nourished our love in the first place, there isn't any way to overcome that defensive wall we cannot help but raise.

I imagine that Teri and I have been as guilty of both of these dynamics as anyone.  Somehow - by grace alone, I suppose - we've overcome that to love each other more deeply than I ever imagined we could.  Our initial love seems superficial and juvenile by comparison.  It would be embarrassing to look upon it, except for how it has led us to where we are now.  But it's also true that we're still flawed people, with different needs and faults which still - often! - come into conflict.  And it would be easy for me to write here in my blog that we've reached the point where I know I'm always going to make the choice to bear whatever hurts our relationship may bring me, and to do all I can to cause her as little hurt as possible.

The truth is that, for any of us, the best we can do is recommit ourselves to each other in this moment.  While I cannot imagine choosing otherwise, I also know it's important that I not (in mom's words) write a check with my mouth (fingers) that my ass can't cash.  All I can do, now and when the next conflict arises, is look up at the cross and see there the passion which my Lord willingly  bore for me, and be inspired to willingly bear whatever passion life brings to my bride and me, that we might become the people God dreams for us to be, as individuals and together.

Now, let me not leave the impression that love is mostly crosses, but its joy cannot be full without accepting the burdens, too.  While I know Fr. Neuhaus wasn't expressly writing about marriage, it seems to fit nicely there.

Solitary confinement

I've no idea how people live alone.  I couldn't do it without going insane.  And I think I understand how people who are widowed after a lifelong marriage can "lose the will to live."

Oh, it isn't as if I could be anywhere near there after only three days on my own, with my wife definitely coming back, even if it is to be at an currently-undetermined time.  I'm just saying I can understand it.

And oh, now that I'm not advertising this blog on Facebook, it's beginning to feel like the old advertising tagline for Alien: "In cyberspace, no one can hear you scream."  But then, I'm not screaming, so no harm.

Alone

Gracefully Alone

Alone now, 5 a.m.
I gently close the door
After we kiss goodbye.
I knew that you must leave;
Encouraged you to go,
Your need greater than mine
To have you remain here.
Go tend to your father.
Then, swiftly, do fly home
into my loving arms.

Tragically Alone, Once

Long past, he was alone.

Mom took us to visit

His fam'ly, far away,

Leaving him to pickle

His bourbon-drenched psyche.

Broken beyond knowing,

Heeding despair's urging,

He left us all alone.

Hopefully Alone

I'm not my father's son.

His was not an answer.

I've found a better Way:

My hope lies in the Lord.

I love you, but have placed

My reliance on One

Who never disappoints.

Thus can I bid you go

do as you must, for now,

eagerly awaiting

you to return to me.

Submit to one another . . .

I've decided to at least try on for size doing as she has asked me to do . . .