Another dream recently came my way: I was traveling in Czechoslovakia, and discovered my bag wasn’t what I thought it was. I was using my first backpack that traveled with me to Europe in the 1970’s. My oldest adult son’s things were inside it, half read books, socks, not mine.
First, I was confused, and then I accepted the realization that I don’t have my own, and I would be fine. Then I woke up.
Decades ago, I did have a lost luggage experience, and I cried at that time because I didn’t have ‘my stuff.’ Back then, not having anything taught me the lifelong lesson that I don’t need things to survive.
This recent dream had the same serene feeling as learning that I am enough just being me.
My youngest son left alone for his ‘grand tour’ of Europe for ten weeks. Even though he wasn’t the son from my recent dream, he travels by himself. My parents taught me that life’s about risk, and I raised my own with the same philosophy.
The son in my dream is also heading in a new direction in his life. He switched out of Corporate America and has changed course from what he thought he’d be doing in his thirties. It takes vision and perseverance to go against the flow, and I respect his decision to move where he can’t yet imagine.
As for the Czechoslovakia part of my recent dream, I am planning to take my own trip to the Baltic region in September, and I won’t be far from Czechoslovakia. Maybe my psyche is getting ready for my future journey.
Dream symbols seem like personal stories of one’s life inside every image. Is my waking life my dreaming life, or is it the other way around?