A good friend brought me a dream box from her trip to New Mexico. It is a small, round box in which I'm to place a written wish or desire or something on which I need resolution. I'm to hold it in my hands before bed, think about what I've written, and the energy is supposed to mix in my dreams and help make it possible.
I love it. I love the smallness that encompasses the largest of cravings. I love the smooth wood that slides between my fingers when I rub it like a worry stone. I love the idea that there is something out there paying attention.
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I can't stop dreaming about a friend who is no longer in my life. Colorful dreams full of aches and tenderness and twists and fullness. Dreams that, upon awaking, muddle and hurt in their aftermath. These aren't cauterizing dreams. And the friend whom I call a friend for lack of a better definition - even though he really isn't a friend, hasn't acted like a friend. What do you call someone who has a piece of you whether he wants it or not? Who, even after your efforts to physically disconnect you can't emotionally sever? Maybe what I call the attempt to shift from lovers to...something else was never really friendship at all. Maybe instead it was me denying the signs I wasn't ready to see. Maybe instead it was me acquiescing to hope, despite what it lacked. Denying signs that extinguish hope; perhaps, I couldn't have survived another round of extinguished hope.
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But now what? Do dreams have an expiration date? Or is this my dream box working through its magic but telling me the journey isn't pain-free? It isn't all easy wishing before bed and waking up the next morning with that life you hoped for sitting pretty on your pillow tied up with a bright, red satin bow.
Saturday, December 19, 2009
dreaming
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3 comments:
"It isn't all easy wishing before bed and waking up the next morning with that life you hoped for sitting pretty on your pillow tied up with a bright, red satin bow."
Dream anyway! And I'll walk with you.
Love,
AN
It is so hard to miss people, even people who may not have it in them to miss you back the same way.
When I was a kid, I had worry dolls. You were supposed to tell them your worries - one worry for each doll - before you went to bed at night, so it was there job to worry and you could just sleep. I love that idea now, but as a kid, I would make up things to worry about so each doll would get a worry if I didn't have enough. It stressed me out. :)
Allie, you make me laugh!!!! I think I, too, had a set of worry dolls. I've missed you here! Good to see you again. :)
And AN - of course, you can walk w/me. I'm counting on it!
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