A dream metaphor
I had a dream last night. I was in a counselor’s office and I was fumbling and bumbling with a piece of kleenex that I’d been crying into. I was working out how I could manage. Working out how I could move forward. The kleenex started sticking to my finger and wouldn’t come off, so I flung it in an ashtray. In the ashtray, it caught on fire. I kept picking it up and trying to put it out, but it wouldn’t go out. Every time I picked it up, it would catch more on fire. So I said aloud, “I’m just going to let it burn itself out.” And so I let it burn.
After just a few seconds, the entire ashtray caught on fire. I started trying to put out the fire and it wouldn’t go out. All the things I did just made the fire spread and burn stronger and hotter. I went to the sink and filled a cup with water. I poured it on the fire and nothing happened. I started screaming, “Get water, do something, help me. Help me put the fire out!” I kept going back to the sink to get water, but each time I went, my cup was smaller until it was finally just a thimble. I started trying to stop out the fire. Everyone else had gone and it was just me, trying to put out the fire. The fire then caught some electrical wire and quickly spread to an outlet on the wall. The outlet sparked and exploded. All I could do was stare at the outlet as it exploded. I knew at that moment that there was nothing more I could do. I couldn’t put this fire out.
And I just stood and stared at it.
I really wanted to fix it. I really wanted it to be alright. I just kept making it worse.