I woke up at 2am sobbing uncontrollably. Was I injured, sick or recovering from some real-life trauma? Oh, no. I was bawling my eyes out simply because of a dream.
This could be reasonable- I'm surrounded by monkeys and have an extended family. Sometimes we dream of calamity striking someone we love, right? Not this time.
Instead, I dreamt of a hawk that I'd attempted to rescue. Some jackeen was fucking with my rescue bird which was actually quite ugly, and this caused me to cry.
In my dream, I walked into a house that was vaguely familiar but not actually known to me, and was confronted by baby animals all penned up and crying. Tiny little fuzzy sheep, adorable goats, a couple of bunnies, and some sweet little downy ducklings all needed, in my mind, to be freed from their inhumane cages and set free in the pastures and ponds that handily, I happened to have ready for them.
As I freed them, there was a sense of urgency, as it was somehow imperative that my task be complete before their captors returned to find me loosing the menagerie.
So I'm hastily opening pens and herding the animals outside when I come upon an injured hawk, whose been fitted with a breastplate of feathers as it'd lost its own. Its wings were also comprised of makeshift prosthetics which, as far as I could tell, involved gluing plastic feathers to the hawk's wing bones, which were exposed. Even though this bird was obviously in no condition for the wild, it became my mission to release it from its tiny cage, to a safer and more humane rehabilitation facility.
As dreams are wont to do, this one left no shortage of impossibilities that were magically plausible, and somehow there was a nearby wildlife rescue where the hawk could recuperate in peace, if only I could get him there.
Enter the villain. This man came upon my attempts at playing savior and under the guise of being helpful actually started to tear what few feathers my hawk had left off in a sort of singsong-y he loves me, he loves me not manner.
I became inconsolable and starting fighting against the ma, scooping up each feather and putting it back on my hawk's fake breastbone and asking the man very politely to please allow me to handle the bird, which until this point had been very docile and allowed my ministrations.
Now, of course, it was getting riled up and becoming increasingly more agitated.
I've never been near a hawk, injured or otherwise, but at least in my dreams, they're quite ferocious when injured and provoked, and my hawk tried btiing this man and clawing him, but was too weak to actually do any damage. The attempt, it seemed, only made him weaker.
So now I'm distraught, fighting for the hawk who was powerless to fight for himself, and trying to get the man gone without agitating the bird even more.
This started the flow of tears, but I really started bawling hard when I realized I was waking up and would therefore be unable to know if I managed to successfully save him or not.
That's right. In my sleep-hazed brain, it made sense that I'd be so upset that my imaginary hawk wasn't saveable because I woke up and realized it was imaginary.
Since husband works nights, all I could do was text him the basics of my dream and try to calm myself down. He offered to make a "hug run" on his lunch, but even traumatized and half awake, I realized how silly I was being. There was no hawk. There was no villainous hawk tormentor. I didn't need to save a nonexistant hawk from a nonexistent man and certainly shouldn't be crying- not because of the dream, but because it was a dream.
Brains, man. They're whack.
I looked up what dreams about birds mean, and they supposedly represent your hopes, goals, and aspirations. Now, I'm no expert, but an injured to the point of death hawk doesn't seem to be a good symbol for my goals, really.
It seems my subconscious is either telling me that my wishes are a hopeless, dead in the water cause, in need of so much life support I might as well just give up, or that whole interpreting your dream thing is a bunch of nonsense and I shouldn't internet anymore.