There’s been a tense, internal quiver, as if someone rammed an icepick through the forehead of your preconceived notions of stability. Taurus wants safety, comfort, predictable outcomes. Uranus is the mad professor who storms in with a cosmic alarm clock, forcing you up at 3 a.m. from dreams you never knew you had, pushing you to see that your so-called “security” might have been one giant illusion all along.