School has started and I must get used to the earlier schedule. Unfortunately for me, I am usually a night owl and still like eight straight, so it will take me a bit to adjust my schedule. As many of you know, I like to pay special attention to my dreams and I also like to write and consider the synchronistic, spiritual and psychological associations between all on a daily basis.
This afternoon, I awoke from a nap and dreams within dreams and waking to journal not only the sleeping adventures, but the first thoughts that emerge from that half-sleep state.
Here are my scribblings:
Yes, we had precious moments, but they have been so long ago, when I still believed in his love of me. Now, I feel I am nothing more than a calf amongst the other 50,000 calves wondering about in their thick, obedient, feminine stances, waiting for a him to devour them, just as my mother tried to convince me I made the world’s best French fries. I think mostly because I'd do it.
My memories are full of holes and so I have learned to both gloss over and rely on linking associations. I am noticing the same old patterns between us in less than a week and his nicely railroading me with his own schedule and desires, me a tetra in a bowl scrambling for the quickly sinking pellets that are dropped at random times. He sent texts, the obligatory invites to tavern nachos and football games, but really it’s not relating to give only the basics--after all, in the dream, my little dog was on the back of a wild horse, the saddle slipping.
My dreams weaving in and out of another were about my daughter Sunny's fort and my back yard tree-house and her pulling me into the back yard to show me she'd pulled the old one down and now it was an inside bed and I kept worrying about whether she'd destroyed the old one and where was it, but she said it was still there, out back, but off of its stilts.
I had been on the side of my parents' house when she led me off and Angel (my dog) and I followed her right then without explanation around the house and back to the Chinese elm of childhood. I am attempting some kind of integration, an updating of past and present for a better future?
I guess I don't look much to the future and am surprised that some do in fear. I suppose if I look at my future fears they would be loneliness and blindness and total invisibility, but I somehow carry a torch of more than hope, a sort of knowing that things will work out and that they always do. That I am blessed and watched over and though I do struggle in learning the lessons set before me, my efforts at spiritual and psychological understanding are great and my solid belief in something more out there in carried over duties of genetic, ancestral code and the viewing of this lifetime as one of many leads me to a more macro higher system and outside of a stream of competing for the prescribed by those who see us merely as producers and consumers (I think many here on Steemit are also outside of that stream).
So even though my writing can seem to focus on negatives, the relational snags and inconsistencies I do get caught in are worked out in my dreaming and writing where I attempt to find the nuggets of truth. I'd like to pull the plug on there being an idea that these explorations of my experiences are downbeat because to me the light ones need no revision--the dark seem the most perplexing for we are beings of light and that for me is the natural state, so our foibles are markers and lessons and I write to share what I have found and to keep the space inside of my brain light. I go in with open heart to the anger, the doubt, the treachery and the lies and in these circles of creative writing and perpetual dreaming I find myself and my connectedness to humanity.
Photo Credit: Javier Allegue Barros/unsplash