Every few months, it seems, the knocking comes. Always quiet at first, growing into thunderous pounding. You’d think I’d know by now that it’s only happening in my dreams, but there’s always just enough doubt to make me wake up and ensure no one is at my door at 4AM.
I’ve often wondered what I would do if someone was. In my mind, there are two reasons they would be there: they need help or they’re trying to make me think they do so I let them in and permit the horrors they had in mind to commence. I think that in either case, my fear of the latter will always keep me from answering the door.
Even in dreams, I’m a realist. I never try to find the source of the knocking. It’s simply a thing that is there, a rattling of pipes, a creaky floorboard, a cupboard that never closes all the way. All I know is it’s somewhere between 2 and 5 in the morning, and whatever is beyond the dreamscape or between the walls isn’t worth the risk.
It happened again last night. The difference this time is that I’m thinking about it. I’m writing about it. What if the knocking is there because someone or something is trying to tell me something? I hope it’s not about my car’s extended warranty, I haven’t had a car in 7 years, and besides, that’s not what I mean.
Today, if I had to venture a guess, I would suppose it’s a guide with something I need to hear. There’s a full moon out. I’m experiencing some clarity when it comes to my calling. (Do note I said some. I still feel utterly clueless.) The world feels fresh with possibility somehow.
I brew some mugwort tea and leave some of the same green herb burning at my bedside. I keep my bedroom clean and comfortable for nights like this, when I’m planning to venture into the unknown. Mugwort is said to help with dream messages. Though I’m not certain I can lucid dream, I’m willing to try. Tonight, I will seek out the thing that is begging to be let in.
The knocking wasn’t there. Only an endless party I had control over. Dreams are rarely interesting to anyone who isn’t having them, so I will spare the details, apart from one.
I was in a small boat in a large indoor pond. One fish in particular had a tall dorsal fin; others often mistook him for a shark. This fish took a liking to me and let me dress him. I dressed him like a naval admiral from the 1800s.
If I try to make sense of it, I think I’m applying too much rationale to something that isn’t supposed to be rational. I put clothes on a fish, I didn’t turn a misunderstood figure into a leader.
I will try again tonight, I’m not discouraged or deterred. The knocking tends to come at a time in my life when a change is needed. Does that itself mean something? Is there really nothing behind it?
Last night, I was standing at the door before the first knock. I flung it open, already knowing who was there. It was a new lover, someone who lived across the street from the giant house my dream self occupied.
I don’t know how to feel about this. I went to bed, warm cup of lavender, chamomile, and mugwort tea in hand. I said out loud, “tonight, I will find out what’s knocking.” In a sense, I got my answer, but it’s not exactly satisfying.
I admit I’m troubled by a notification from the Pattern app I got about a week ago. It let me know that now is an ideal time to meet my perfect romantic partner. Now until January 22nd, that is. The 22nd is this Saturday.
That’s far too much pressure to put on something that doesn’t come naturally to me. When people ask why I’m single, I always say I have too much to do. I do mean that, it feels like I have so many other things to do, (meaning, so many other things I’d rather do,) and a relationship would be a distraction.
That’s the thing about being married to power and control though, life will always be teaching me to let go. Whether or not I answer that door, the knocking will be there, stubborn and persistent as I am. The only way to stop it is to do the easiest possible thing: open my eyes.