So, apparently, my plans to write regularly were completely forgotten.
I don't feel bad about it.
I'm a grown up.
This is my blog.
I do what I want to do!
I had a frightening dream last night about my husband having a fight with an aggressive, disrespectful man who'd shoved a lady trying to rush her onto the elevator. I was in the elevator already, and a different lady in front of me was trying to push me back with her butt. I just laughed at her.
I watched from inside the elevator a man trying to provoke my husband by elbowing him because he didn't like how closely my husband was standing behind him (they were in a crowd of people, all aggressive, all pushy, except for myself, my niece and sister, who were on the elevator with me, and my husband). My husband just looked at him like he was crazy, but didn't defend himself or even ask him to stop. In real life, he would have asked him to stop in a non-aggressive way. (He'd give the man the benefit of the doubt and say something like, "Excuse me, will you please be careful with your elbows, they are bumping into me.") It wasn't until my husband saw the man put his hands on a woman that he confronted the man and began to fight with him. Again, that is so true to who he is in real life. My husband is much quicker to defend someone else than he is to defend himself.
What scared me about seeing him fight was not that he would hurt the man, though hurt him he would. It was that my husband would get arrested for it and be taken away from me. I knew he felt what he was doing was right, so I didn't question his actions - I just didn't want him to be punished for it. I squeezed my way through the crowd in the elevator toward my husband, screaming, "Please, please stop! Oh, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus please stop it!" God opened my eyes when I screamed, "JESUS!" one last time after seeing that my husband had picked the now unconscious man up and slung him over his shoulder. It was God who opened my eyes, yes. Not an alarm, a sound, an urge to go to the bathroom - nothing. My eyes just opened after screaming His name.
I don't often remember my dreams, so it's interesting to me how well I'm remembering this one. It may not mean anything, but I still found it telling in a way that I should probably keep to myself...
This morning, while in my car waiting for my train to come, I started to ponder my preference for silence. It's something I've noticed about myself that is unique in my household full of people who prefer to have music in their ears all day, every day, sometimes, even in their sleep. When we're in the car, they want music. When hanging out in their rooms, they want music. While commuting to school or work, they want music. Personally, I can't think with all that noise in my ear all day. Please don't misunderstand me, I do like music on occasion, and some of my preferences may even surprise you considering what I just shared with you about preferring silence. It's just not my constant companion. I'd rather sing to myself or be completely quiet.
I was going to suggest that my family uses music as a way of escaping reality so that they don't have to deal with their own thoughts, but really, I have a way of doing that, too: through books. Currently I'm reading the Divergent series; I'm on book two: Insurgent. When I'm not reading, however, I do prefer to talk to myself and to God. Sometimes I have entire conversations with him in my head...mostly it's just me asking, "God, why do I keep doing that, saying that, BEING THAT?!" Just joking...
XOXOXO - Jessika