Me: We have to find it. If they lose it, she will lose her shit!
I told a friend, as we searched frantically for the lobster. I saw it walking towards the chicken wire fence and cut its way through the nearby pond. I saw it sank in the water.
Friend: Maybe it’s time for them to lose it.
This is an excerpt from my dream last night. I must be some sort of a spirit guide in one of my other “waking lives”. In this life I am looking after a family. The mother is young and she has three small kids, the eldest must not be older than eight. She’s not single, although I get the feeling that she’s raising the family on her own, including their pet ducks and this magical lobster that I am talking about.
Well, it’s not actually “magical”, in a sense that it has supernatural powers of its own. It became magical only because the young mother believed it was. She’s also living in a world where people hoard all kinds of animals thinking they bring them good luck. She’s got around thirty ducks, maybe, together with the lobster while her neighbor is keeping an army of puppies in her already tight space. They’re so squeezed together she could barely move around to feed them. And the smells…
I didn’t want her to lose that lobster because I knew that she’s only a hair away from going crazy. She’s got all these worries that are piling up day-by-day. On top of that she’s carrying the burden of loneliness for the choices she’s made. However, my friend (I suppose, another spirit guide) must be right, maybe it’s time for her to lose the lobster.
Maybe by losing the lobster, and “losing her shit”, she could awaken to the real cause of her misery. Maybe it’s time for her to take back her power that she’s given away not only to the lobster but to everything and everyone else in her life. Maybe it’s time for her to see herself, to trust herself, and to finally choose herself.
Losing the lobster could have dire, irreversible consequences for her, and so is keeping it – and other kinds of “lobsters” in her life. I care for her. It would break my heart to see her lose hope. However, it would break my heart more to see her waste away her life hanging by false hopes. I’d rather have her hang onto herself. She’s the magic she’s seeking, after all. She’s the source of everything she needs and more. I hope she could see how I see her, how Source sees her.
Are we any different from her? Is our reality any different from theirs? We hang on to forms, we hang on to our creations for some sense of security when we are the creators ourselves.