Dreams of Rock

It is one more recurring theme in my dreams – where I climb down rock faces, dangerous rock formations natural or man-made, gripping the rock with my finger tips, sometimes gaining foot hold, sometimes swinging by my hand holds. Much braver than reality, for in reality I have never climbed rocks. The only climbing I’ve ever done is a 6 rated climb on an artificial wall in a climbing gym in San Jose. Being belayed by a competent climber. On whom I had at the time a serious crush.

Now to my dream. I seem to have ridden through cobbled streets of an unrecognized town in a three wheeler – a man-powered rickshaw. The rickshaw is going down the steep rock cut steps sideways. With us still sitting in it – there’s three of us, though I don’t recall who the other two women with me are.

A few steps down, it occurs to us to get out of the rickshaw and climb down ourselves. The other two women magically evaporate, leaving me to climb my rock wall in solitary splendor. I feel light and monkey-esque, but there’s no recollection of a tail 😉 But I’m scared. In the dream too, scared. Heart in my throat. I can even now feel the black granite rock beneath the flimsy hold of my fingers. I do a tricky step down, with my hands holding on to an overhang, and my feet flailing for purchase on the under side of that rock. One step done and about 20 feet to go. Yes, I know. Sometimes my dreams are modest.

Suddenly I realize a friend is waiting below, giving me directions as to where my next foot hold is. And simultaneously it occurs to us that he can simply reach up, pick me off the rock and get me down to terra firma, without my having to negotiate another step. A happy (if tame) ending, and my heart settles back in its place. And no, the man is not the competent climber I used to know, and alas he does not set my heart rate soaring either.

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