I have been having strange dreams lately. I dreamed of a frog suctioned on the edge of my tongue, unwilling to let go. I could remember the disgust I felt. That disgust was different, not quite heartfelt. Instead, it was like a concept hovering over me, recognized but not fully internalized. Someone – I was not quite sure who – in my dream said that the frog was supposedly known to do that. It was an accepted fact, a habit on the frog’s part to hop into people’s mouths and just clutch as mightily as it could.
I also dreamed about a bunch of people dressed up in “Ghostbusters” gear, hunting for eggs that are supposedly very priceless. Doing so without getting official permission by a certain organization would mean jail time. Still, off this group go – hunting for huge, precious eggs.
Both the frog and the eggs symbolize fertility, a welcome theme for someone who was almost unable to conceive a child and for someone who must continue thriving in a creative community. Maybe, my writer’s block would end. Maybe I would start drawing with some inspiration again.
However, there is also a darker tone to all of this. I received the weird set of dreams after I laid down to sleep without my pain medication. The sudden change in sleeping activity reminded me that I had become so dependent on Lyrica to make me survive each day. Whenever I remember just how scary it is to have growing cysts on my spine and how they eat at my bones, I could not sleep. But I want to sleep, even if it means giving in to strange dreams.
Trying to Write Like a Cat...and Failing 