Every Rose has it's Thorn

I had this week off.

And I really mean that. I had it off everything. F and I hid away together and did very little.

We needed some hibernating time together though. Last year was full on. Going away to see my family swallowed most of our leave. What little I had left over was swallowed in the odd sick day cunningly disguised as holiday and the occasional day for appointments. TIme for us to languish together was woefully lacking last year.

Last year was a tough year, it feels like a foot note in my life - a year away from my path, where I took a little side route off to go do some stuff I didn't much enjoy but had to get through. This year, it starts again. But gently. I have in the past gone full pelt with the blogging and changing my life and it gets too much as well.... I want balance, mostly.

This week has been a nothing week, some would call it a waste. But it has been joyful and my batteries feel more healthy now than they did.

And that is it really, except for a dream I wish to share.

I am out walking Little Dog when we get stopped by four policemen who pile out of their car. Little Dog is doing her doings and they are runny and they try to tell me something is wrong and I am like nooo, she just gets a bit like that when she gets over-excited. (excuse the overshare)

There is a field. There is a TV programme talking about seeds being carried by the wind in huge amounts from other countries, like a plague. Apparently we had just received a plague from the Netherlands. I remember seeing maybe purple flowers in the piture.

There is a field. Carefully planted rows of flowers, tulips, daffodils, bright colours. Swamped by spiky thorny foliage of fast growing weed seeds. I remember thinking the farmer would have fun removing all of them.

We return home. A man grabs me. Little Dog is powerless, it seems poisoned, not over-excited. He has me confused with someone else, a prostitute who usually charges £20 it seems. I know where this goes. The police are around, do they come in time? I wake.

I try and tread gently with dreams like this. They plink my nerves. As an ex-victim, I can't help but feel sensitive after them but I don't think this more recent rash of dreams with violent happenings is so very much about the violent happenings..... I think, our personal symbology is formed from what we experience and unfortunately that includes the good and the bad.

Is this a dream of the past, the now or a warning of the future? I don't think it is the future, it feels too much like this last year.... But what I want to know is this.... What about those seeds, sent by the wind? Are they a blessing? Or are they just weeds, to be removed? Neat rows of daffodils and tulips is not me, beautiful yes, but not me. But is a field full of prickly foliage that may just flower in my favourite colour. But those beautiful bulbs still flower as the seeds grow, each has their own time of year.

Is this a dream about feeling weak and powerless and beseiged. That I am still growing myself and that the difficulties are a gift from spirit which will flower in unexpected, but beautiful ways, if I let it grow? My most favourite flower after all has thorns.....

And now I am drained