Solcana blog


By: Lauren Anderson

So, this weekend I had a sex dream. (Naughty!)

To add awkwardness to embarrassment, the dream also featured a very platonic friend. (Scandal!)

I know I know, I felt weird about it too, but what can I say? The subconscious mind is weird twisted place trying to suss out megatons of information. And we all know that in dreams things are never what they appear. So that ‘friend’ (that shall remain nameless until my dying day) was probably just a physical representation of my mis-spent youth or something.

Right? Right?!

Anyway, I won’t bore you and describe the whole dream, but it basically went like this:

I showed up at the apartment (that wasn’t really the apartment) of my friend. Then he’s all, “Hey Lauren! Wanna have sex?” And I just started blushing so hard. But I nodded my head “Okay.” And then he goes, “Okay! But first, come out here and and help me with this.”

I walk out on to his balcony. (Which was glorious btw… I mean, my dream self has a real flair for architecture.) And when I stepped out onto his urban veranda where he was, I see him standing over a DEAD BODY.

He goes, “Help me move this.” And I blush, cause now I’m shocked and embarrassed about what I’m seeing, but I just shrug and kinda flirt-giggle and say “Okay.”

Then the sexy sex dream decays into us shoving a faceless human body into bag, and hauling it down a couple flights of stairs. I don’t ask any questions. But just so I know it’s still all F’ed up dream, the air is still heavy with a “Will they Won’t they” vibe.

And then I woke up.

After a few seconds of processing in my waking life, I start to laugh. Like really hard. I laughed so friggin hard that morning, it felt almost cathartic. Sometimes dreams are so cryptic, but this one was pretty much on the freaking nose.

I don’t think I need to figure out what that dream meant. Basically, I think it was my brain’s really messed up way to tell me– in order to get to the fun stuff, I have to clean up the mess in my life first.

I mean, I wouldn’t host a brunch at my home if I knew there was a dead body in the living room. Even if that dead body was the size of a mouse. I would take care of the body first.

So, What’s It All Mean?

Well, I don’t know about you, but if I’m being very honest– there are a few areas in my life that I’ve been neglecting. Whether it’s that pile of laundry that’s just been hanging out on my chair like that was the plan all along, or the writing deadline that I put off until last minute, or the daunting unpacking of a hurtful relationship– there are so many areas to tidy up.

They hang out in the corners of my mind and in my apartment like dead bodies on the floor. And instead of bravely moving them and clearing them out, I keep stepping over them, both literally and figuratively, and pushing them to one side or the other.

I don’t deal with them, because even though they’re not real dead bodies, the weight of the the neglect feels like a horrific burden– much like how I imagine moving a real dead body would be.

Is this getting too morbid? Am I being too casual by referencing the neglect in my life as dead bodies?

I hope not, because the dramatic imagery is helping me finally put the right amount of intentional thought around the things that I’ve let slip. I keep trying to only do the fun stuff, but it doesn’t work– because the other neglected stuff keeps getting in the way.

There is more neglect happening in my private life, than it would appear from on the outside.

And I don’t think I’m alone in this. At least I hope not. Am I? In the age of social media and camera filters on our phone, I think it’s very easy to curate the life we want the public to see. When right to the left of the Instagram photo is a pile of dead bodies. (Hopefully only in the figurative sense…)

* * *

As I’m laying in bed laughing and processing my creepy non-sex dead body dream, my alarm goes off.

It’s officially time to get up and go to the gym.

There are so many things that keeps me coming back to Solcana, but I am still astonished at the magical way my simple workouts seem to always take on a bigger meaning.

I walk into the gym on Saturday morning, I greet Maureen, and we head over to the whiteboard to read the workout for the day. And guess what was on the docket? Yup. You guessed it. DEAD LIFTS.


I couldn’t believe it. That morning I dreamt about moving a dead body, and today at the gym we’re working on deadlifts. I raise my hand and tip my invisible hat to the universe. Good one. Okay fine! I’m listening universe! I hear you. I hear you.

We really go-to-town too. Coach Ryan takes us through Conventional deadlifts, Romanian deadlifts and Sumo style deadlifts. It is grueling, and refreshing at the same time– if you can believe that. A virtual smorgasbord of lifting heavy things off the ground. Excellent practice for what I know I have to do.

And with each heavy lift, I consider, ponder, devise and deliberate the dead bodies I have to move later. I’m working out my actual body and improving my capability. But I am grateful for the physical practice, because I know it will also bolster my body and spirit for the figurative work, and some neglected literal work, I am about to take on.

It’s time. No more stepping over horrors and pretending. It’s time to get rid of the dead body on the floor FIRST. And thankfully, because we worked on deadlifts at the gym, I have great technique.

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