I had an extremely vivid dream the other night. Its meaning was brilliant and genius and completely enlightening when first my eyes opened. And then I rolled over and it sort of dimmed and made somewhat less sense. And yet, something about it has stuck with me for the last few days. There was a subway station—I think maybe Kenmore Square—and a pig on a leash. And me feeling on the threshold of something big—an important step. It was something about which I was hesitant, but knew inherently I shouldn’t be. There was a spirit guide—a disembodied voice—demanding I walk the pig. I was anxious at first, filled with hesitation, but then I simply moved forward. I walked through the turn-style of the underground T stop holding a thick twine leash tethered to a corpulent, pink pig.
Walk the pig.
The voice was insistent. Adamant.
And as I felt more confident, the twine leash dissolved and we walked right through the turn-style without need of a token. I was afraid the pig would run away, but it didn’t—it stayed right with me. All my fears and reservations dissolved as well.
Walk the pig.
I have been thinking a lot about what walk the pig means. When that phrase emerged from my good old subconscious, my dream self perceived it as tremendously profound—a mantra of sorts. My awakened self was left a bit less impressed. Or perhaps simply muddled. But I think maybe my dream self was onto something. I think walking the pig might be doing the thing that scares you. And everyone knows you should definitely do the thing that scares you. I remember the guide, which I recognized as some part of myself, relaying the wisdom that walking a pig was indeed unconventional, but that fact should not stop me from doing it. Should not make me fear it.
You ever wake at 2am, lying prone with the darkness pressing down on you? Ever notice how everything feels its worst and most terrifying at 2am? The most fearsome things blown up too enormous to manage? The fearsome thing that is so unique that the lack of a roadmap holds you back?
I think that might be the pig.
I am actively defining my pig right now—thinking a lot about that fat, pink, curly-tailed girl. And then, whether I am afraid or not (I will be), I’m gonna walk that pig.
What’s your pig?