My dreams have become increasingly disturbing to me. Because they have been continuous for years. I don't put a lot of stock into dream meanings, but when you've had the same kinds of dreams for essentially your whole life, you start to wonder about your subconscious.
The first kind involves missing something important. Either by oversleeping, or just forgetting about it entirely until the next day, or until it's too late to do anything about it. And then I'm just really upset at myself and try everything to get where I'm supposed to go and I can't no matter what. A lot of times I miss Halloween for some reason. Other times I've missed a vacation that was planned, or my birthday. I have a feeling I'm going to start having dreams about missing my own wedding.
The second kind is a lot more disturbing. It involves some global tragedy happening where the fate of the world is at stake. Like aliens invading, or a giant monster, or any other number of terrifying things. And instead of being awesome and helping the world, I essentially just hide and pray continually that I will live, bargaining with God for my life.
I'm sure the first one has to do with my intense fear of disappointment. Of being excited for anything on a small or large scale and then having it not work out. I'm a control freak. Things out of my control that involve my own life make me incredibly anxious and nervous. I fixate on them.
The second I can only guess has to do with the fact that although I have a very large amount of faith in the church and the Plan of Salvation, I don't want to die. I'm really afraid of death. Because life is supposed to be a test, that determines eternity. And so far I've failed in a myriad of ways. And the idea that I could die at any given time, fully in my sins with no chance of truly repenting, is just something that I can't think about without losing my mind. And now that I have Max, all I want is to be with him for all eternity. And I want to work towards that goal so badly, and we are trying, but there's a lot that I've done seriously wrong.
I guess my subconscious is just giving me a friendly reminder of everything wrong with me.
And on that note, maybe that's why I put so much stock into making things perfect. Into meticulously fixing old college work that everyone else has thrown away, into making my journals beautiful by fixing any mistake with white-out. Maybe it's because it's something I can control. Maybe because I pretend that I'll live forever and have these fond memories to look back on at any given moment. Fond memories of something I did that was perfect. Unlike the rest of my life.
But the saddest part is, even when I put hours of my time into fixing these things, they're never good enough for me.
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