The Quarter-Life Crisis of Change


I keep having this reoccurring dream—

Where I’m running across this incredibly large cement slab, away from light gray clouds and into dark, stormy ones. The wind’s so strong that it almost lifts me off the ground—it pushes back, trying to keep me in the light gray where it’s stagnant and suffocating. But even though it tries, I make it to the farthest utmost corner of this cement square and stop dead in my tracks. Now that I’m at the corner, on the edge of everything, I hear the storm asking me: What are you going to do, now? 

Am I going to stand there and walk back into suffocating light grays from where I ran from?

Or am I going to lean forward and fall off the edge of this everything, into the storm.

I never make it past this part of the dream. Somehow, I always end up waking up and never deciding to step off. Not that I have any control over my dreams in any sense of the word, I’m not that subconsciously gifted. The last thing I remember, always, is staring at the storm, watching the lightning crackle across the sky in thick veins that cut through the black-blueish clouds. I feel the wind hit against my body and watch the light gray diminish behind me into dark. It brings back a very odd, but not uncommon, fear I had when I was a child; wind (specifically at night time).

I remember my dad was very aware of this fear when he’d scream “Dorothy!” if we were outside at night and the wind was especially strong. I’d “yell” back at him but he’d just laugh. He even did it when I was a grown ass man and it made me laugh more than yell in fear, even if the weird fear was still there, watered down and muted.

This dream had me thinking a lot after it ended. Why would this be reoccurring? It’s such a rare thing, I think, for dreams to keep coming back. Only if it’s deeply routed in your subconscious, with some otherworldly meaning that only your subconscious knows and keeps hidden from you for whatever reason: to protect yourself, probably. Still, I don’t really know.

But then I saw the spiders.

If you know me, if there is any sort of bug anywhere, flying/crawling/big/small, I scream like a little girl and make sure I go nowhere near  it. I create this six-foot personal bubble for the insect and walk A R O U N D it. Unless it’s in my home. Then I put two of my shoes on my hands and hit every part of the wall other than the bug. Ugh. Why am I like this. But the spiders..

Over the course of one, yes I said one, day I saw six spiders in various places in my home. This is incredibly uncommon, truthfully. Extremely uncommon. There’s more of a chance to see stinkbugs in my home rather than spiders. The first was in my laundry room which wasn’t so weird because the door to the outside is right there. I killed it because it was holding my laundry hostage. The second was by my shoe, just as surprised to see me choose those shoes to wear that day because I hadn’t in a while. It met a very quick demise considering I already had my weapon of choice in my hand. Third spider was in the bathroom on the wall. Nope, nope, and nope. Sorry, bud. Fourth was actually outside of my home, but on the bricks of my home so it was too close to my face, and it met its creator ruhl quick. Fifth was when I walked upstairs to my bedroom to veg out of Netflix and danced along the wall when I got too close which made me see the damned thing. My boot met its face. And last, but not least, and luckily the smallest of the six, I laid on my bed thoroughly perturbed from the spider slaughter, one little guy decided to descend from the ceiling like a badass but, yet, in front of my face, so I threw my body off my bed and crawled over to my boots, put both on my hands, and went hunting.

It was firstly terrifying, but after the sixth spider (I am sorry, spiders, but you can’t just turn up out the blue, uninvited) it felt too much of a coincidence. Naturally, I am a spiritual person, and I like to think that things have a greater meaning—so this whole spider ordeal had to mean something. Right? I looked up the meaning of seeing frequent spiders.

To connect both stories, the dream and the spiders, I’m going to tell them in order of what I think it means presently. One word:


The dream isn’t all that hard to figure out a meaning. Don’t get me wrong, it took a lot of days eating salad alone at Point State Park, walking alone around the city, driving aimlessly until I realized wasting gas was probably not the best thing to do until the most sound meaning crept its way into my awakened, self-reflective conscious.

Whether it be spiritual change or physical, worldly change, it’s going to happen. I’m nearly staring it in the face—like I stand at the edge of that cement slab and watch the storm heading directly for me in my dream. The wind is my fear, my troubles, my grief trying to stop me from feeling the raw power of change and letting it smack into me like a wall of water releasing from the clouds and slamming into the city cement on a humid summer day. Inside, desperately and viciously, I want that wall to hit me and I want to embrace the change that is so close to see that I can literally feel the humidity dropping inside my strung up, heavy, emotional-troubled, and deprived subconscious.

When I looked up the meaning of seeing frequent spiders, literally in the span of one day, I found something that was scarier than I’d like to admit. Not that it’s dangerous, but just that it’s scary to consider that both elements are very present in my fragile world right now.

Just as the spider weaves a web, so too must we weave our own lives. The spider symbol meaning here serves as a reminder that our choices construct our lives. When the spider appears to us, it is a message to be mindful of the choices we are making.


Well isn’t that the scariest fucking thing I’ve ever come to realized. My change is on the brink of closure, and it will be strong and fierce like the storm in my dream—but at the same time, I must be mindful in the choices I make, as the spiders show me.

I can sense how important this change will be for my life, how it will define me in one of the biggest life-changing moments since my dad had passed six months ago today. I see the choices I must make and how it could potentially deconstruct a lot of the safe webs I’ve created for myself. But in creating those safe webs, I’ve entangled myself in a stagnant humidity that leaves me begging for a storm to come and destroy them so I can start again.

Some of these decisions that I am presently facing will make a lot of the people that I love angry. I already know it. And I hesitate in telling the most important people the potential for the changes I feel that I must make, even if it directly affects them. It makes me feel like a child again, scared outside in the wind.

I am ready for change. I am ready for the storm to hit. Hell, I’m even running toward the storm. I’m hungry for it.

The best part? You will be experiencing it here, firsthand, on this blog. Stock up on your bread, milk, eggs, and lunch meats at your closest Kuhns because a storm’s coming and it’s going to shake you.

Are you ready?

Song: Don’t Kill My Vibe, by Sigrid.

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