The night before a conversation where I knew I’d have to talk about some difficult personal stuff, I had a dream.
I was in a little boat, bobbing on the surface of the ocean, seemingly calm and idyllic. But, from way down deep, something was on its way up. Travelling directly up towards my little boat was a monstrous shark, jaws wide open. Up it came, ever faster and closer, with rows of teeth too sharp and strong for my little boat to withstand. It broke the surface of the water and I knew it was all over. But there was someone else in my little boat. Calmly, he leaned over the edge and fired a single shot into the gaping jaws. It was all over, but not for me.
“It had to come up to the surface,” he said, “so that I could deal with it.”