What’s in a Dream?

It doesn’t take a psychoanalyst to figure out the dream I had in the wee hours of Monday morning, opening day of my new clinic. I’ll give you a few details and you can decide.

I was driving to the clinic right before dawn. It was dark and drizzling and damp and the kind of cold that cuts right to the bone.  Oncoming cars glared at me as I took every wrong turn possible. Not recognizing any road signs or landmarks, I ended up in Timbuktu. I stopped by an unnamed beauty salon to make an appointment with a stylist I had never met to get my hair cut.  I waited impatiently for at least twenty minutes chiding myself that now I was going to be late for sure. Finally, I decided not to make an appointment after all. I walked down a steep flight of stairs and tripped at the bottom, dropping my purse and spilling its contents everywhere. It took every ounce of energy to collect my scattered belongings. Prostrate on the ground, I army crawled to the car. Apparently my legs wouldn’t work.  The car door opened like an oven door and I struggled to get in. I finally made it to my office and someone asked for Julie. Three people looked up at once. Which Julie do you want? The receptionist, the MA, or the doctor.

Can you say anxious? More like petrified.

The truth is I made it to my office on the first day in plenty of time, with no wrong turns mind you, despite my crazy dream. And much to my surprise and delight, my five adult children (orchestrated by Carol, my daughter-in-law) had sneaked in the night before and left a thoughtful gift and hand-written note, each one having penned their personal words of encouragement for my first day.  Even my grandson, Uriah, contributed. “I like some of the food,” he wrote. Cherishing their sentiments, I paused to reflect on all the people who had been helping with this huge change.

For the last several months, Stephanie and I have been stealing away talking, planning, dreaming. My brother, Greg, has been so patient and kind helping with web design, logo, printing, the list goes on. During the previous weeks, family members and colleagues gave helpful advice or came by with well wishes and flowers. Lisa, my friend who owns a small business a stone’s throw away, lent words of affirmation and beautiful art for the walls.  My husband and son willingly assembled furniture and hung pictures.

Then there’s Gayle. The entire week prior she made phone calls, ran errands, helped me decide between this rug or that. Furthermore, Gayle has been the mature kind of friend who can identify with and validate your frustration and still direct you to take the high road.  Did I mention that in my dream Gayle was riding in the passenger seat? Not saying a word, she was like a guardian angel, steadfast and true.

Though my first day had its bumps, it was overall very satisfying. Patients were patient as I fumbled through the new electronic medical records system. My former boss and his wife dropped in mid-morning with reassurance and a lighted exit sign. The phone rang just enough to encourage me that I was not off my rockers to start this new venture. By the end of the day, Gayle and Stephanie and I were breaking into song. “People who need people are the luckiest people in the world.”(Don’t worry. I’ll keep my day job.)

But whoever said that was so right on. There is no way I could make this huge change all by myself.  And you know what I am figuring out? I don’t have to do it all by myself. I need help and that’s ok.

We all need help and support in change. It’s a creature feature and there is no shame in that.

At Oregon Weight and Wellness, our team wants to help support the changes you are making, no matter how big or small, to help move you in a direction, perhaps a new and different direction, of health and wellness.

I need to add a PS to all those dreamers out there. Just for fun, I looked up the meaning of Gayle. I found several: “festive party; to have the uncanny ability to stay calm in chaos; quiet confidence; a peaceful warrior; one who sees the light in others.” Interestingly, in Hebrew, Gayle means “a father’s joy.” At the risk of seeming overly sentimental or spiritual, I believe that even in my fear and trepidation, I have the joy and favor of God my heavenly father right with me.  I forget that oftentimes. The dream was a good reminder that change is hard but with God’s help, I can do all things. My hope is to hang onto and extend that same outlook to all He brings our way.