I had a phone conversation last night…one of those rambling phone conversations – the kind where topics just kind of flow into one another and digressions turn into discussions without warning. So, on one of these digressional tangents we somehow started talking about his rigorous high school education at an all-boys Catholic school. Of course we chortled at the obligatory Catholic jokes, but talked somewhat seriously about his experiences with the intense academic demands and the high character expectations. We talked about how the students were taught the difference between arrogance and confidence.
Confidence is knowing you have the ability.
Arrogance is telling everyone around you that you have the ability.
Confidence is believing in yourself.
Arrogance is believing you are superior to others.
We talked about how the school instilled a sense of humility; teaching the young men to assume abilities were to be found in others as well. Have I mentioned how I think humility is one of the most attractive qualities a person can have?
A lack of false pride. A humble opinion of one’s own importance.
I was actually kind of surprised to hear that a private school with a religious foundation (and a Catholic one at that! hee) would hammer home those kinds of lessons in character development in this day and age. Honestly, I think humility is a character trait of a bygone era, sadly. And when I say humility, I don’t mean meekness, or weakness, or a lack of self-confidence – which is sometimes the bad rap humility gets. It’s a quality of being unpretentious; of being aware of the potential in others. Humility is accepting that one does not always know best, is not always in the right, and is willing to make adjustments and re-adjustments throughout one’s life. Humility is having an open mind.
Which is why I was surprised that this idea of humility and the differences between arrogance and confidence were extolled at a religious institution. In my experience, the vast majority of people who are really into the religion thing, behave in just the opposite way. That sense of arrogance, of knowing without a doubt that they are right and believing fervently that their way of thinking/living/behaving is superior seems to permeate religious communities. Calm down. Before you get all huffy: this is NOT true of all religious people I have met…especially when you get to interact with them on more of an individual basis.
And here’s the thing – I don’t begrudge anyone their beliefs. It’s that whole open mind thing. However, religion, in my opinion (and my opinion only), is a very personal thing. And I actually genuinely admire those with strong faiths. It’s when those same people put those beliefs on display for the benefit of their audience to let everyone know just how fervent their beliefs really are. And instead of coming across as humility, that attention-seeking display glows with an arrogant smugness, which just drives me crazy.
So last night, I had this dream. Well, a nightmare really, but it didn’t involve being lost as most of my nightmares do. Instead, this nightmare involved my sister, and no she wasn’t stabbing anyone. Even worse than stabbing, she had somehow converted into a self-righteous bible thumper! If you know my sister, you are probably laughing hysterically right now at this absurd idea, but trust me, the dream was NOT funny at all! I was nearly in tears trying to talk to her about it and so depressed that she was suddenly judging others and being arrogant in her new-found beliefs (I never did find out how her transformation happened in the first place). It was disjointed, as dreams so often are, and when I woke up I had this strong urge to call her to make sure she hadn’t really lost her humility. Yeah, it was a scary-ass dream!
Showing posts with label nightmares. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nightmares. Show all posts
12.13.2007
6.12.2007
We're not in Kansas anymore
Do you ever have one of those dreams?…you know, the dream that feels so real and so threatening, that when you wake up sweaty and out of breath, your heart thumping, the feeling of relief that it was only a dream is so overwhelming it brings tears to your eyes?
Lots of people have recurring nightmares - of falling or being chased or stabbing someone (although the latter probably only applies to Bethany!). I have this fear of being lost. Ironic, I know, considering I've spent a good chunk of my 31 years being lost. But, I've always managed to un-lose myself. The recurring theme of my nightmares (nightmares I've had since I was a kid) is being hopelessly lost. And I'm not talking about 'lost' as in "oh shit!, I took a wrong turn back there". I mean 'lost' as in being utterly alone and having no sense of where I am or how to get where I'm going if I even know where I'm going, which is rarely the case anyway.
So, in my nightmare that woke me out of a sound sleep last night, I was in a strange city - it was hilly and it must've been by the sea because I could hear seagulls and ships' horns (like I said, it was a very detailed and intense nightmare). I was walking at a hurrying pace and frantic that I didn't know where I was and couldn't find anyone to ask directions. Panic set in because I knew I had to get to work (hmm…an indication I've been working too much lately?) and didn't know where work was or where I was or how to get there. And then in dream-like fashion, I suddenly found myself inside a big, old house (my nightmares of being lost almost always involve a house at some point). In my dream the house felt familiar in a foreboding kind of way, although in my waking state I couldn't place it as somewhere I've ever been.
There were no windows in the house and it was dimly illuminated with artificial lighting. There was dingy, old-fashioned flowered wallpaper on most of the walls and it was alarmingly quiet. Quiet, except that I thought I kept hearing scuffling as if there were other people directly ahead of me or directly behind me just out of my sight. At some point I frantically realized I needed to get out of the house if I was to become un-lost. And I couldn't. I tried, but it became labyrinth-esque with strange, tight corridors, still air, and no way to tell where I was going. The panic and anxiety was palpable. But even in my frantic dream state, I told myself "just retrace your steps, stop trying to find the way out and just go back the way you came".
Apparently I took my own advice because I tried going back the way I came, my fear enveloping me as the environment seemed to become less and less recognizable. But then I entered a room and there was a man. A big man with dark hair and a handle-bar moustache who was dressed as an old-fashioned circus ringleader. In my dream I knew without a doubt that the man wasn't there to help me, but I pleaded with him anyway, begging for some kind of direction. My panicked desperation at being lost became wild . . . and that's when I woke up in sweat-dampened sheets with my heart pounding against my ribcage and fear-laced adrenaline raging through my veins
As a kid, my sister's favorite story was Alice In Wonderland. While it completely fascinated and delighted her, it scared the bejeezuz out of me! Seriously, my child's brain could not fathom anything more terrifying than being lost like that - alone in a strange, menacing, and more often than not, hostile environment with no clear indication of how to get un-lost. As an adult I've come to love the fanciful imagination of Lewis Carroll, but back then I just wished Alice would've had a yellow brick road to follow. At least in Dorothy's case of being lost, she not only had friends to help her become un-lost, but she had a definitive path to follow. Sometimes I wonder if somehow I've strayed from my yellow brick road or if, like Alice, I don't even have a path to follow.
Lots of people have recurring nightmares - of falling or being chased or stabbing someone (although the latter probably only applies to Bethany!). I have this fear of being lost. Ironic, I know, considering I've spent a good chunk of my 31 years being lost. But, I've always managed to un-lose myself. The recurring theme of my nightmares (nightmares I've had since I was a kid) is being hopelessly lost. And I'm not talking about 'lost' as in "oh shit!, I took a wrong turn back there". I mean 'lost' as in being utterly alone and having no sense of where I am or how to get where I'm going if I even know where I'm going, which is rarely the case anyway.
So, in my nightmare that woke me out of a sound sleep last night, I was in a strange city - it was hilly and it must've been by the sea because I could hear seagulls and ships' horns (like I said, it was a very detailed and intense nightmare). I was walking at a hurrying pace and frantic that I didn't know where I was and couldn't find anyone to ask directions. Panic set in because I knew I had to get to work (hmm…an indication I've been working too much lately?) and didn't know where work was or where I was or how to get there. And then in dream-like fashion, I suddenly found myself inside a big, old house (my nightmares of being lost almost always involve a house at some point). In my dream the house felt familiar in a foreboding kind of way, although in my waking state I couldn't place it as somewhere I've ever been.
There were no windows in the house and it was dimly illuminated with artificial lighting. There was dingy, old-fashioned flowered wallpaper on most of the walls and it was alarmingly quiet. Quiet, except that I thought I kept hearing scuffling as if there were other people directly ahead of me or directly behind me just out of my sight. At some point I frantically realized I needed to get out of the house if I was to become un-lost. And I couldn't. I tried, but it became labyrinth-esque with strange, tight corridors, still air, and no way to tell where I was going. The panic and anxiety was palpable. But even in my frantic dream state, I told myself "just retrace your steps, stop trying to find the way out and just go back the way you came".
Apparently I took my own advice because I tried going back the way I came, my fear enveloping me as the environment seemed to become less and less recognizable. But then I entered a room and there was a man. A big man with dark hair and a handle-bar moustache who was dressed as an old-fashioned circus ringleader. In my dream I knew without a doubt that the man wasn't there to help me, but I pleaded with him anyway, begging for some kind of direction. My panicked desperation at being lost became wild . . . and that's when I woke up in sweat-dampened sheets with my heart pounding against my ribcage and fear-laced adrenaline raging through my veins
As a kid, my sister's favorite story was Alice In Wonderland. While it completely fascinated and delighted her, it scared the bejeezuz out of me! Seriously, my child's brain could not fathom anything more terrifying than being lost like that - alone in a strange, menacing, and more often than not, hostile environment with no clear indication of how to get un-lost. As an adult I've come to love the fanciful imagination of Lewis Carroll, but back then I just wished Alice would've had a yellow brick road to follow. At least in Dorothy's case of being lost, she not only had friends to help her become un-lost, but she had a definitive path to follow. Sometimes I wonder if somehow I've strayed from my yellow brick road or if, like Alice, I don't even have a path to follow.
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