Last night I dreamt of a large, furry bumble bee. It was collecting pollen from a large fuchsia-colored flower and several other bees were glommed on to it, struggling to take clumps of pollen from its legs and back.
All of which may or may not be related to the fact that yesterday I had somewhat of a third-life crisis moment. Actually, it’s been going on for a few days now as I try, really, really try to examine my reasons for wanting a dog. I think it’s about a walking partner and a face to talk to while I’m writing, but what if it’s about trying to create a family? That line of thinking led me down a rabbit hole of apartment searching, which was totally depressing because rentals can be so disgusting and overpriced. Then that lead me down a rabbit hole of looking at houses for sale. Do I want to live in this neighborhood? Can I afford to? Do I want to be closer to work? Do I want to live out in the country, with a little more space and room to breathe? I ended the day feeling like all of it was wrong, like it wasn’t time for any of that just yet and that I need to set my sights a little higher.
I have a tendency to over think things until the moment is almost gone, wasted. However, I also felt strongly that none of the possible future scenarios were right yesterday. At least not yet. I came away more focused on the things that are meaningful to me right now, and that has to do with writing and being creative. I might get a dog. I might buy a house. But maybe not yet, and even if I do, those won’t be the most important, or possibly even lasting, aspects of my life.