The Fight I Never Wanted: A Dream of Reluctant Strength

True strength is not in the strike, but in the love that holds it back.

It started with rain. Not just any rain, but a violent, ocean-swallowing storm—the kind that turns the whole world gray and trembling.

Somehow, I was there, swimming through swells like mountains. No fear—just exhaustion. Fear had long since lost its grip on me.

I was a boxer in the dream, but not by choice. I was being made to fight. And it wasn’t just me—there were six other girls with me. All of us dressed in white: silky shorts, crisp white tees—clean despite the chaos. A strange kind of purity in the middle of the madness, as if we’d been untouched. Preserved.

The arena wasn’t an arena at all. It was a boat, rocking in the heart of the storm. The only boat visible for miles. The only solid thing in a drowning world. This was the place I had tried to escape, and now I was back.

I’d fought my way through the waves, hoping to find something different. But the moment I climbed aboard, I was thrown right back into the performance—right back into the role. We were told to fight. Not for glory. Not for purpose. Just because someone said we had to.

But the fight that haunted me most wasn’t just any opponent. It was someone I loved. No one else knew. Not the crowd, not the trainers, not even the other girls. But he knew. And I knew.

I didn’t want to fight him. I didn’t want to win. Because winning meant hurting him. And hurting him would destroy me.

The first time, I threw the match. I let myself lose. The world around me raged at the betrayal. “You’re the undefeated champion,” they said. “You can’t lose. You won’t lose.”

But I had already decided. I would rather lay down my victory than strike someone I loved. That’s when everything escalated. The sea. The storm. My body soaked. My muscles weak.

I remember thinking: Maybe now, being so tired, I won’t be able to hurt him anyway. Maybe now it’ll be okay.

The love I felt for him cut through the dark like lightning. I didn’t fear the waves. I didn’t fear death. I just feared what I could do with the power people insisted I carry.

Because this wasn’t just a test of power. It was a test of reluctant strength—of carrying love through the fire without letting it burn.

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What It Reveals

When I sit with this dream, I see the collision of love and power—how strength without restraint can wound the very thing it longs to protect. The storm and the sea set the stage for chaos, but the boat—rocking yet solid—held the tension between safety and captivity.

The white clothing felt strange to me: untouched in the middle of violence, almost as if purity could survive unscathed even when forced into the fight. Yet what we were asked to do had nothing to do with justice. It was performance for an unseen authority, a demand with no true purpose.

And then, facing someone I loved changed everything. This wasn’t about survival or pride anymore. It was about whether love could hold me back from misusing my strength. Choosing to lose wasn’t weakness—it was my resistance.

For me, the dream revealed that sometimes restraint is the truest form of strength.

What It Asks

• Where in my life am I being pushed into battles that have no true purpose?

• Have I ever chosen to “lose” in the eyes of the world to protect someone I love?

• What does strength look like when it refuses to harm, even under pressure?

• Whose voice is telling me I must fight—and do I really believe them?

What It Undoes

• It loosens the belief that power must always be used.

• It unravels the lie that victory is the highest good.

• It quiets the compulsion to prove worth through winning, even when the cost would be love.

What It Plants

• It plants the seed that restraint can be more powerful than force.

• It reminds me that love is not weakness, but a fierce guardrail against misused strength.

• It calls me to discern between the fights worth taking on and the ones that only diminish the soul.

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Seed for Thought

Sometimes the bravest thing you can do is step out of the ring—

not because you can’t win,

but because you know what winning would cost.

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