The Perfect Assassin

Last night I had a dream that I was back at my alma mater, Columbia Bible College, or euphemistically, Columbia International University. I was walking across the back side of the campus toward the dorm I lived in when I was a student; I passed Ernie Taylor and gave him a high five, then some others wearing bright blue shirts with numbers on them, like they were dressed up for the north-south football game held every year (which, as I reflect, I realize I never attended in seven years at the school, usually because I was in the library). When I approached the road that heads toward the old faculty houses, I heard a siren go off and some gunshots on the opposite side of my old dorm. Somehow it was made known to me that there was a shooter on campus, and people were fleeing in every direction. I kept walking away from the campus toward the pointe, a promontory that overlooks the Broad River and the prisons on the other side. I think there was someone with me, and the road was a strange mix of how it was when I was in college, and how it is now, which is non-existent, because the ridge it was built on was bulldozed into the valley so apartments and athletic fields could be built.

Aerial view of the Pointe

Anyways, I was afraid to go back to the campus, though it seemed no one was fleeing in my direction. When I reached the overlook, I decided it would be safest to hide in the woods down the steep ravine towards the river. I noticed that the erosion on the rocky slope was worse than it was twelve years ago, so I descended carefully. When I got to the valley, my two roommates, Nathan and Thomas were there, along with one or two others that I couldn't identify. Strangely, the attacker showed up too, and we were for a time at a loss with what to do with him. Somehow we overpowered him, and the dream ended with my four friends each holding a limb as if we were about to quarter him, and I had him in a headlock.

I woke up and realized this was a vivid picture of my psyche on Monday and Tuesday. I'd spent most of both days doing biblical research for the ministers of the church plant I'm joining. I've been looking forward to the opportunity for a month or two since Andy mentioned the possibility to me. I jumped at the chance since I've been sensing a call back in the direction of my education for the past year. But by the end of the day Tuesday, I was quite discouraged, because I realized that the same weakness that so hindered me for years, and finally burned me out of pursuing biblical studies, was still very present and more powerful than my ability to resist. Like the shooter who violently invaded my college campus, it reared its head when I was a student, drove me away into solitude (only it was more often to the library than to the pointe), kept me working on a 100 page master's thesis for two and a half years (while others finished in six months), and crippled my efforts to teach high schoolers. What was it? Hyper-perfectionism and thoroughness bordering on obsessive compulsive disorder. I don't know how all the psychological tests I've taken for it have never given a positive result for OCD; anyone who reads even part of my thesis won't need a test to diagnose me. Not to mention the time records I kept of the entire 1000 day process, including tasks I did every time I worked. It came out to 1009 hours in 1010 days, if I remember correctly.

It's so frustrating, because it only comes out when I'm dealing with tasks or people I really care about, and it drives away the people and paralyzes me from efficient productivity in work, yet it compels me to be drawn to them too. Right now I'm discouraged by it, because I've so been looking forward to this work, and the report I finished tonight took me 25 hours when it should've taken me 5. If there's any encouragement at all, it's that for the past three days I did work with unusual resistance to external distraction. Now I just need to work on internal distraction and the controlling thought that it's never good enough. It's also good that right now I'm surrounded by people I can confide in and who want to help me overcome this tendency. Almost like our effort to quarter and strangle the assassin in my dream.

I heard this song as I finished writing; I thought it was fitting.