My Soul is Sore

So I had this dream...Wait right there. I know what you're thinking. Is Joelle really going to tell me all about the wacko dream she had last night where she was flying and then met James Franco on top of the Sphinx in Egypt? But he turned out to be someone from high school instead? No. I'm not. I'm merely giving you some background information, mainly so you know that I was in my subconscious.

This is what happens: I'm dreaming, and in my dream I have to do a bunch of sit ups and push ups. And then I finish and I'm sitting up, and someone (very handsome who will remain anonymous) puts his arm around me and asks "Are your arms sore?" What I do is cuddle up next to him and say "No. My soul is sore." Which is pretty much true, but I'm a bit surprised that my subconscious would come up with something like this. I mean, I'm asleep.

I dream a bit more and there's some ice, a dead body, a cardboard box, and a truck involved (sounds eerie but it really wasn't because previously mentioned handsome person was hugging me for most of it). Then I wake up and think.

My soul is sore.

Just like how my arms get sore after lifting when I either a) start lifting more weight or b) haven't lifted in a while, my soul gets a work out when a) the burden begins to weigh more or b) I haven't had to deal with stuff for a while.

My soul is sore.

I suppose I should look at this positively, because it means I'm actually working my soul out. It's not sitting around, eating puffy Cheetos and becoming flab. Here's the thing about being sore: you feel weak and your body aches for a time, but when you try lifting the burden again, you'll find you've gotten stronger after your recovery. Sore souls mean strengthened souls. I mean, don't they?

But here's where I'm at: the aching stage. I'm not in recovery. I am not strong. Though I will hopefully get there some day.