My Recurring Dream RT Shores

"Turn the knob!"

My first support group... the building looked liked a 1950's elementary school. Oh geez! I hoped I wouldn't have to perch on a kiddie school chair! I knew I was just making excuses for not wanting to go to something suggested by others.

"You need help!" Said one, tired of hearing about my dream every morning over coffee.

"I know a great group my mother goes to! It is a multi-support group! There are all kinds of crazy folks there, so you will feel right at home! Uhh, I didn't mean that like it sounded... " Said my assistant.

"Crap!" I said too loudly. "Just go and shut up!" I said to myself.

I pushed through the old metal doors with a chip on my shoulder and was ready for a fight. I stopped in mid step in the entrance though. The old school was gone. It was now a beautifully renovated building!

A pleasant, and non threatening, woman sat at a reception desk. I approached slowly. She smiled and pulled me right in with her genuineness.

"Good evening! May I direct you to a meeting?" I nodded and pulled out my scrap of paper.

"Multi Support  Group?"

She nodded and pointed to her right. "Room 122, Have a good evening." I thanked her and then found the room.

I just stood there, pretending to examine the abstract painting on the wall next to the door. I could feel the woman watching  me. I turned back and she wasn't watching me at all, but talking to another person. I was paranoid.

I opened the door and the room was pleasant; low lighting, comfortable furniture and a coffee bar. I walked in and headed to the coffee bar. No one ran up to me and insisted I talk to them or fill out forms. Whew!

Mixing my coffee, I listened and heard some light laughter and conversation. I found a comfortable armchair near the door and sat. I would wait and see what was going to happen before I committed.

A large, but jovial, man stood on a small rise and introduced himself. "Good evening. I am Joel Carmichael and I would like to welcome you to what we call, "The Clearinghouse". He paused. 

"Here, we try to direct you to a support group that meets your needs, or simply invite you to stay with us here. Any group can be supportive, but may not have everything that a particular need may warrant."

It all seemed okay to me, so far... I would stay.

"To conclude, enjoy your beverages and snacks and the rest is up to you."

Before I knew what was happening, I was on my feet. "I need help!" I felt my face blush hot and red. I hung my head. The room quieted and I heard footsteps headed my way. I sat in the chair again, hands in my lap, head down.

It was Joel. "May I have your name?" 

I looked up and said, "Natasha."

"How can we help you tonight?" People were coming closer, but not in a scary way.

"It's silly, but it's a dream and I have gotten to the point where I either won't sleep or drive my friends and coworkers crazy talking about the dream! I am scared I will be fired."

"I don't think anyone in this room is a dream analyst, but sharing may elicit some new interpretation you haven't heard before. Want to try?" I nodded.

"The first few years it was an exciting dream. I am in a house, mine or my mother's, and then I come to doors, new doors. I open them and go through and those lead to other rooms and more doors and sometimes other buildings, etc."

"Sometimes I find things I have lost and miss. Sometimes there are people there. I am usually glad to see them and they help me find things."

"Let me fast forward a bit... the dreams never bothered me and I enjoyed them. In the past year they have changed though. Now they are frightening and I freeze in the rooms and can't escape."

"Who, or what, is there, Natasha?" Joel asked.

"Shadows, shapes of people, nothing, fear, danger... my hand is on the doorknob and I yell to myself, "Turn the knob!", but I can't and then awaken scared to death.

People murmur in the room. "Any ideas?" I ask to the room.

"You feel guilty." I nodded. 

"Yes. I was raised Catholic!" We all chuckled at that one.

"Are you scared of trying something new?" I tilted my head to the side.

"Maybe. I do have an option to change the course of my career or remain with things unchanged."

"Why does that scare you?"

"I don't want to fail, again. I am stable in a job now and a home and I don't want to change things." 

"Then don't." Came a voice from the back of the room.  I saw a tall man headed my way. He  stopped short, perching on the corner of the sofa.

"If the thought of changing jobs, or positions is that frightening, don't." He smirked.

I nodded. "What if they fire me if I don't change jobs?"

"Then they are idiots and you need a new job anyway." The tall man said.

"Do you have some savings, a ready resume, good references?" I nodded to all his questions.

"They are going to fire if if you keep disturbing work with dreams and the dreams are going to cause you to make a mistake as well, so you need to reconcile yourself with those facts. Stop fearing a job change and the dreams will stop and then your obsession will stop. Make sense?"

I nodded as did the whole room. "But what if she is scared of something else?" A young woman asked.

"What else are you scared of?" Asked Joel.

"Hm, the unknown, relationships, so, the usual." The room chuckled.

"Why is your mother's house in the dream?" Asked the tall man.

"Well, she is dead now and we left a lot of things unreconciled, so I figured it was that."

"Like what? What was not reconciled?"

"Well, my life was spent trying to make her proud of me. I never felt she was." I heard someone say, "Ahh!"

"This is coming together now, Natasha. You lived for your mother's approval. I  am sure a good  job was part of that. You may change jobs. Would mother approve or would she say, "Protect your job and security!" like they did decades ago, dying in a job."

"Hm, this makes great sense!" I exclaimed. "Thank you!"

"Excellent!" Said Joel. 

"May I come back and report?" 

"You may come back and do whatever you like!" Joel stated.

We all chatted and sipped coffee and nibbled snacks for awhile. I thanked everyone and spent a little too long on the handshake with "the tall man". His name was Greg.

The dream started the same way that night, but with a new addition. When I opened the third door, there was Greg. He held out his hand and said, "Let me help you through the door. I turned the knob... "