Dream: A teenage girl asks me to join her in playing topless ping-pong with her friends. She’s just about to take off her shirt. At first I consider joining in but then I see a glimpse of her breast. I don’t feel comfortable with this situation. I say, “No thanks, I really should get some sleep.” I walk out and close the door, making sure it closes all the way.  I walk to my bedroom and climb into my bed. I am half asleep when I feel someone’s hand there next to me. The hand is small with soft skin. It feels limp, lifeless. I thought I was alone in the bed but here is this hand.

Topless ping-pong anyone?

Really? Topless ping-pong? Dreams come up with the funniest scenes sometimes.  They provoke us, pushing us up against our normal boundaries. The carefree teenage girl asks me to join in. That carefree girl also lives somewhere inside of me. There is a tug in me that wants to jump in and join the fun. Be her. And for a moment, I almost am. But I react to her nakedness. The girl is unashamed. I react with fear. Very quickly the fear turns into embarrassment and then judgment. I decide that this situation is not appropriate.

Judgment spoils the fun. I declare to the girls that I should get some sleep. Oh, aren’t I just the life of the party? I’ll bet as soon as I walk out and close the door, the ping-pong party girls say – What a buzz-kill!

Maybe this dream is poking fun at me. Here is a chance to really let go and be the girl but I make the choice to be all serious and boring. The other girls are crazy and out there. I am a wet blanket and judgmental. Ugh!

When I leave the girls, I close the door “all the way”, making sure to separate myself from them. I get into bed with the intention of falling asleep perhaps wanting to let the girl slip into unconsciousness. But there is something I notice before I fall asleep. It’s a soft, tiny hand holding mine. Rodger suggests that it’s my soul boy. His hand is limp, lifeless. He’s making himself known to me. It’s another part of my soul self reaching out to me. He exists. He’s alive. But barely.  Along with the teenage girl, somewhere in me he still exists. Hopefully his energy, his excitement and his initiative can come to live again.