Sensory Paralysis

The conversation was crucial, but I could barely hear the person who was speaking to me. I asked them several times to repeat what they were saying, but they only seemed to continue to whisper and to smile even. My own words were caught in my throat. As was often the case during a time of urgency in my dreams, my voice failed me.

Moments later, I found myself outside, seeking some destination. I was too lazy to avoid crawling through a large cob web full of tiny spiders, and paid the price by having the tiny threads strewn carelessly across my clothing. I was laying on the ground, and knew in my mind that I needed to get up and brush the spiders off. I kept telling myself to rise and brush. But I was unable to move. I could picture the movement; I just could not implement the movement.

A noise in my home awakened me, and then I moved. I reflected on the dream.

I wonder about my discernment and my voice these days. What are the things that I am neither hearing nor saying...and what are the movements forward that I should be taking, but am not due to my ambivalence?

There is a certain sensory paralysis afflicting a part of my life, my subconscious appears to be telling me. There could be entire conversations in which I am neither privy nor participating, but in some way should be. There are steps to take in some direction that remains ambiguous.

The humanity in me wants clarity. Mother Teresa once said she did not seek clarity, but trust. The spirituality in me wants to trust more. Even when I can barely hear, speak or move. Perhaps that is the best time to trust, in the midst of paralysis.