There’s a theory in psychology that you can tell a lot about a person if you know what their three most favorite movies are–because it tells you what’s going on in their subconscious. And whereas it’s not my intent to discuss my three most favorite movies in this post, I would like to discuss my FOURTH most favorite movie–Tombstone. Hum, why do I like this movie–psychologically, that is? It’s about the wild west and a band of outlaws called The Cowboys, and Wyatt Earp and Doc Holiday (and their friends) absolutely clean their clocks. I guess that’s it. Their such badasses; they don’t take any shit from anybody else. They stand up for themselves. Their simply not–what’s the word?–afraid to face their demons.

There’s this scene toward the beginning of the movie–Wyatt Earp has just rolled into Tombstone (the town) and enters a saloon called The Oriental. Well, the place is real fancy, like nicer than your mom’s living room, but there’s hardly anyone in the place because their card dealer is a total jerk, a real blowhard. Wyatt asks the owner, “Why don’t you get rid of this guy?” The owner says, “I’m too scared.” So Wyatt says, “I’ll do it.” And just like that Wyatt calls the guy’s bluff and tosses him out on his ear.

So get this shit. Last night I had a dream about The Oriental. However, instead of it being a saloon, it was a hotel–a huge, grand hotel. This is like a theme for me; I can’t tell you the number of hotel dreams I’ve had. The last time I brought up a huge, grand hotel dream to my therapist, she said, “That’s you–big and grand.” Considering the fact that I also have A LOT of construction dreams about building houses, an activity which I think correlates to my building a new life (both internally and externally), I personally see hotels as representing that which is temporary, as well as the need to rest.

But back to last night’s dream. I’m in a swimming pool (water dreams are pretty much non-stop for me) and say, “I’m going to change [my bathing suit.]” The problem is that I can’t find my room, Number 364. Two people give me directions, but the room isn’t where it’s “supposed” to be. So I’m running all over the place–upstairs, downstairs, you name it. Finally I find the right room number, but on the inside is a sweet shop, a restaurant. And then I woke up. Looking at the clock, I noticed it was one in the afternoon.

I’d slept for eleven hours and was still tired.

This afternoon my friend Matt and I rehearsed for our upcoming dance routine at our friend Bonnie’s house. I mean, we rehearsed at her house; the performance is in Northwest Arkansas. Anyway, we worked for several hours. And whereas we got a lot done–the routine is really coming together–my body hurt pretty much the entire time. I have this issue with my right hip, and I guess one of the new moves we’ve been learning irritates the hell out of it. Or at least my doing the move wrong irritates the hell out of it. That’s the thing with aerials–the moves themselves aren’t that bad if you do them right, it’s just figuring out HOW to do them right that hurts.

I don’t have any pictures from our dance rehearsal, but here’s a picture of me with Bonnie’s new boots, which I think are absolutely fabulous. Check out that dollar sign!

Now it’s almost midnight, and I’m icing my hip with a bag of frozen blueberries in an effort to minimize the damage from earlier. Hopefully that, the drugs I just took, and a good night’s rest will do the trick. We’ll see. I may have to go to the chiropractor this week. They do this ultrasound thing that really helps with inflammation. I mean, whatever it takes.

But back to last night’s dream and a couple things that fascinate me. First, The Oriental. The obvious connection is to the movie Tombstone, in which case it would be a reference to finding my voice and learning to stand up for and take care of myself. But I think there’s also a wordplay in the name of the hotel–The Oriental–that refers to my current quest to “orient to” or follow my own path in life. (I guess you could call what I’m doing The Re-Oriental.) Second, the room I was looking for, Number 364. The obvious connection here is that 364 is one day shy of a full year (and is the exact number of days one book I recently read about the sun and moon suggested using if you wanted to make your own calendar), so that would be a reference to time. But for me it’s also a reference to my birthday (9/13), since 364 can also be written as 9/4 (because 3 plus 6 is 9), and so can my birthday (because 1 plus 3 is 4).

I realize the birthday/math part is potentially confusing, but I’m always doing this, adding numbers together to see if they match, and it’s the first place my mind went when I woke up this afternoon. Anyway, my birthday would still be a reference to time, and that would make sense because in the dream I couldn’t find my room, and in my real life it feels like I “can’t find the time” or don’t have enough of it. That’s what they say about dream interpretation. WHAT in your waking life FEELS this way?

When I consider the fact that in the beginning of the dream I said, “I’m going to change” and then ended up in a sweet shop/restaurant, the time thing makes sense. That is, I see sweet shops and restaurants as places to kick back, relax, and recharge. And yet I’m always in such a damn hurry to change–running from here to there, thinking I need to move into that new construction–that I rarely remember to slow down, rest, and take better care of myself. Even when my body hurts and WANTS to rest. So the sweet shop is a reminder that there’s TIME to chill out, that this is WHAT time is for–for changing, for re-orienting, for–what’s the word?–healing.