I've had a recurring dream for years, that goes like this:
I'm in the bedroom of the house in which I grew up, one which I commandeered at 11 and lived in until I was 19 (as of now, almost 14 years ago). The dream takes place in the present, always during the daytime, and sunshine is always streaming through the room's five windows.
I am there to pick up a handful of things I left behind when we sold the house. In real life, we kept the house vacant for several months after we moved into the new one, and I actually did leave a couple of boxes in the room for awhile. When I first started having the dream, it reflected that reality. But over time (and sometimes in real time in the dream), more and more items returned to the room. Eventually, everything returned — my bed, my various items, clothes, large stacks of magazines, photos, piles of papers, even my old entertainment cabinet with its TV, stereo, VCR, videotapes and CDs.
And yet, my job was still to clear all of it out. I wasn't doing a very good job.
At some point, I gave up all but the most cursory efforts to organize anything and would visit from time to time just to watch old videotapes on my old Zenith TV. I felt like I shouldn't lose touch with my old technology. That was less burdensome than the increasingly Herculean task of trying to organize my life.
But last night, something happened. I cleaned it up. At least, the worst parts. My brother saw me staring at some papers and said, "If you haven't needed it for this long, just chuck it, man." So I did. And it felt good!
I woke up very refreshed. Hoping this is a harbinger of good news soon.