Threat Rehearsal

You see things; and you say, “Why?” But I dream things that never were; and I say, “Why not?”

–George Bernard Shaw

…if you’re paralyzed with fear, it’s a good sign. It shows you what you have to do.

–Steven Pressfield, The War of Art

Of the various theories why we dream, “threat rehearsal” may be the most provocative. Psychologists suggest that we conjure alarming and nightmarish visions to steel ourselves against analogies in the waking world. This often manifests as a predator or adversary, but occasionally is a bit more subtle. Now, I’m not dramatic enough to claim that this blog was the result of a dream. But it did kick me in the ass, and is probably the reason you’re seeing this now rather than months down the road.

I was standing on a balcony, leaning against a railing. There I saw several of the people I admire, whom I’ll write about later, running a marathon in the park. At one point, a man leisurely jogged up the steps and asked what I was doing.

I answered as if already knowing the broader implications of his question. But still disingenuously,

“Working I guess; school, writing. . .”

He looked at me with a mixture of confusion and disappointment. I felt uncomfortable at how insufficiently I answered, and decided I needed to further justify myself:

“Well, I haven’t been writing lately, but I’ve been really busy at work. . .”

“Really?”

“. . .”

“Why don’t you join us, we’re right down there.”

“I have to–the thing is, I need to figure out–”

He interrupted with a crestfallen but firm, “Oh.”

Then I was jarred awake by a friend swatting me with a pool noodle. I was on vacation, but that dream unnerved me for the rest of the trip. Ever since, it seems that the universe, through circumstance, conspires to rid me of my fear. Because now, I’m letting it.

My dream offered the image of the lowest-hanging fruit possible; I didn’t have to climb a mountain of razor-wire or slay any dragons. My subconscious knew the absurdity of my fear, and that I was just not fucking doing anything about it.

There are no half-measures; this is a fear that deserves obliteration. I didn’t write for the stupidest of reasons: an obsession with making mistakes. But if you avoid risk or ignore failure, you lose their constructive power, and with it the chance to do something worthwhile.

The decision to leave the balcony is probably the easy part. Now I get to run the marathon. So I’m writing this to put my growth on display. And my mistakes. I suggest you go make some of your own, if you want to resolve a few nightmares.