The Dream Whale

In the mornings I wake up slowly because I want to play back my dreams one more time.

My dreams are colorful every single night, pulsating with so much meaning, that I am eager to understand them.  I try to register each detail and commit them to memory, to glean whatever message is meant for me in the sometimes chaotic visuals.

Vivid and action-packed, the plots in my dreams unfold, scene by surreal scene. Each unearthed memory and untracked thought that plays at wild while I sleep I want to keep.

Last night was no different.

After feeling somewhat “off” over last weekend, every day since I have felt woozy. The seasons have changed, bringing a variety of illnesses to many, and I was not left out. This week my days have been spent heavily napping while whatever illness caught up with me took hold. As my physical energy diminished, a familiar panic sunk its teeth in.

I have languished this week. Falling behind on work projects (self-imposed deadlines, sure, but I work for myself.  When I slow down, work slows down).  As a result, it has not been fun to be in my mind for the past several days. The calendar moved steadily forward. I slunk in bed feeling just awful about my lack of forward progress with anything important to me:

The projects I wasn’t advancing on; the opportunities hovering just out of reach.  The frustration, the discouragement, the impatience and irritability.  I couldn’t think clearly, felt I had lost motivation, and any inspiration to write or work was buried in the messy cave my room had become.

Anyone with ambition, or who feels urgency to just get things done would empathize with this state of lethargy and guilt.

But then the dream whale came.

In the morning, as Tino and Roo dozed in each of the claims they’d staked on my bed, I woke to the most incredible images and storylines in my mind.  They are too much for this space, but one scene I will share here.

I was hovering above the ocean; a calm, brilliantly blue ocean. Not far off were boats packed with joyful people, and beyond a shore and vibrant small town, looking lively under the sun.

But I was closer to the open, deep blue, gathering the vast expanse of the ocean before me.

Floating on the lapping, gentle, lucid sapphire water, were several rectangular pieces of plywood. They were aligned flat on the surface, as if they were meant to be a narrow path you could walk on, moving away from land, and headed towards the horizon.

As I noticed them, the flat floating pieces of wood began to break apart, and I found myself no longer hovering above the water, but lying on one of the pieces. As I held on, the ocean water began to flow over the thin piece of plywood, and I began to sink.

My thoughts turned to the dangers of the ocean.

On cue, a dark shadow emerged near me, breaking the surface ever so lightly with its dark shiny back.  The thin piece of plywood must have sunk, because I was now treading water, watching the huge creature circle close.

Under the water, it turned toward me, revealing itself as a huge black and white orca.  There was no dramatic tension in my dream because instantly the whale broke through the water to greet me.  I wouldn’t say friendly, but I wouldn’t say menacing either.

Alone in the ocean, I had come face to face with a killer whale.  I reached my hand to stroke his face, and I think he might have taken my hand carefully in its teeth, not unlike Roo does when she’s being playful.  Strong, with intention, but gentle. Definitely toothy.

For a minute, the whale regarded me. And then, he took me under.

There was a feeling of strength and force from him, but nothing sinister.  In my dream, I was not afraid. Whales are strong creatures and tend to move with force. And I didn’t resist, because, even though it was the ocean, I was with a whale – a being that knows the ocean better than I.

I believe he had my shoulder in his jaw. He faced towards the ocean floor, my face upwards towards the air we were rapidly sinking away from. I was going under backward, his shining curious eye looking directly into my open eyes. And the bubbles! There were so many bubbles of air leaving his mouth (even though whales don’t breathe through their mouth – in my dream, this one did).  Down we went, under the deep, deep blue.

The ocean water wrapped around me like a heavy blanket, comforting and warm.  A tiny oval of light blue sky and air moved farther away from me as the whale, with me in its grip dived deeper, away from the surface, and down, down, down, down, down. The blue shadowing darker as we dove.

In the dream though, I wasn’t afraid of drowning, losing my breath, or being eaten.  Surprised and maybe slightly nervous like we might feel on a roller coaster that drops too steep too quickly, but I did not feel deathly afraid.

In my dream, I remember thinking to myself, “It’s ok.  He’s playing with you and he needs to breathe the air too. He’ll take us both back up to the surface soon.”

So I trusted the blue weight of the ocean, and the pull of the black slippery whale as he took me under. Speeding bubbles, our faces side by side, going deeper and deeper and deeper – until suddenly we surfaced with a brilliant white splash.

The sun was still shining. I felt that everything was okay.

Because it was okay.

I woke to that dream and walked through it again and again. The intensity of it all. How heavy the clear ocean felt, the playfulness and daring of the orca, with his large shining eyes, blowing his bubbles.

And of course, after coffee in the waking world, the dream still swimming through my mind, I Googled “what does it mean when you dream of a whale?”

What first popped up was so clear, so simple and so perfect:

“The appearance of a whale in a dream can signify that everything is or will be o.k. and is often related to spiritual matters of the mind and heart.”

How comforting. How timely.

We could further deep dive into who is really behind the helm of our dreamlands – spirit whales or our own consciousness. But those are conversations best had in the evenings over a few glasses of wine alongside openness and curiosity.

After a week of feeling weak, and after days of feeling distraught and behind and disappointed with myself, panicking that things were not okay – what a cool thing to dream about.

A nighttime oceanic journey that delivered a simple message I had forgotten to pay attention to.

Despite my inner fears and shortcomings that took me down this week, the dream whale took hold of me, pulled me under the ocean of it all, and left me with a message I could wake to.

Everything is going to be okay.

~ Christy

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