cowardice
“To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there’s the rub. For in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil…that dread of something after death, the undiscovered country from whose bourn no traveler returns, puzzles the will and makes us rather bear those ills we have than fly to others that we know not of. Thus conscience does make cowards of us all.” – Hamlet
I’ve been a coward. There have been moments in my life when I charged full-throttle into adventure, adversity, and action. Yet for every one of those times there are probably twenty times when fear drove me to cowardice. Irrational, paralytic, and projected fear.
I am dreamer on a grand scale. My dreams are so amazing and vivid. Often I’m overcome from them and do believe it to be my unconscious mind attempting to work out the mess that my conscious mind created that day. The science of dreaming is wonderful stuff. I’d love to learn more and teach myself to lucid dream all the time. Then, maybe, I’d find myself more satisfied.
I’ve only ever lucid dreamed a couple of times. The rest, dreams or nightmares, takes me on journeys into my imagination and past experiences so much that I can wake up and notice the marks on the palm of my hand left behind from my fingernails digging into my fists. One of my most enjoyable dreams was so simple and free. I felt like I was really jogging, very fast and free, all over the streets of San Francisco. It was a perfectly warm and sunny day. The wind smelled sweet and if I wanted to run faster I could without any trouble. I could hear the rhythmic pounding of my feet on the pavement. The city was clean and safe and wonderful. It was a fantastic dream.
I’ve also dreamed about flying. Once I was a kite flying high about the trees of my childhood home. Birds brushed against me as I bounced in the breeze. I’ve had the dreams of high school where I didn’t know what class I needed to get to, couldn’t find my way anywhere, and always forgot my locker combination. I’ve dreamed of tornadoes hitting my house, sweeping me away in my car, or plucking me from a rooftop lookout. I’ve had nightmares about getting killed in falls in particular. I’ve dreamed some pretty ridiculous scenarios, that after consideration, were highly insightful.
So why am I such a chicken in real life? Why do I shirk when things get a little bit tough? My dad once told me that my life lacks discipline. Does exerting discipline strengthen one’s resolve when faced with a struggle? Is discipline something that your born with – like the qualities of one’s temperament? I would like to work on my ability to exercise some discipline with my life. Then, with some well-earned strength, my dreams wouldn’t be the only place for me to feel fast and free for I am Hamlet.
Leave a Reply