This morning, I woke up in tears. I’d already been crying in my dream.
In the dream, I was sitting across from my family at a long table, lined with crisp white linen. Me on one side, them on the other side. It felt like me against them. We were in a dining car on a train. The train was running along the coast. Outside the train was a beautiful, peaceful scene. Inside the train, my family was shouting at me. They were saying harsh, heartless things to me, just as they sometimes used to do in the waking life. They took out hefty cooking knives. One by one, they started throwing them at me. “You are crazy!” I shouted at them as I kept dodging the knives in the air. They continued to throw more knives at me. I begged them to stop, but they weren’t listening. They were too busy throwing knives at me.
When I woke up, I felt just… incredibly sad. I was coming to terms with the hurt I felt all my life. I carried their emotional burden on my shoulders. I tolerated their projected pain and anger. These are the things I kept brushing off growing up because I didn’t want to see my family as villains, and I somehow thought I deserved such treatment.
The other day, I heard someone say that most of us don’t hurt each other on purpose. I felt that. My family didn’t intend to hurt me, I’m sure, or I hope. But the damage was made in me. Words were said to me. The dream forced me to relive and feel all those difficult emotions that I didn’t get to accept and feel when I first experienced them. This time, I knew I wasn’t responsible for their emotions. This time, I wasn’t going to protect their feelings over my own.
I stayed in bed for a while to process the dream. I felt more tears in my eyes. I cried a bit more.
I am in the backseat of a Porsche, inside a large warehouse. The place feels like a corn maze, but made with concrete instead. The car is driving itself and about to make a left turn. I quickly hop in the empty driver’s seat, but the seat is pushed way back, to the point my legs can’t reach the pedals. I panic. We are going to crash. Despite my worries, the car turns perfectly, maneuvering carefully and beautifully in the tight space.
I am part of a small band. I’m the singer. Others are reading music and playing their instruments. They follow the score and practice their craft. I, on the other hand, cannot find my sheet music. The sheet has the lyrics for me to sing. What am I supposed to sing if I don’t know the words?
My life comes with no script. I am the creator. I write the things I want to say. I write the scenarios I want to live. I choose the people I like. I do what feels fun and right for me.
You came into my dream the other night
We were at a dessert buffet
You got yourself creamy custard
You were so happy
I got a slice of tres leches with coconut flakes all over it
You wanted us to enjoy the treats together
It was so sweet
And peaceful
You come and visit me in my dreams from time to time
Telling me what’s going on in your waking life
What’s on your mind
How you are feeling
I once said to you
”I can always feel your energy”
That never changed
It still is true
You never left my heart.
She entered the room in a flamboyant manner. Dressed in a marigold color two-piece suit that resembled a noble African tribe chief. It suited her so well, and she looked completely androgynous.
Big vast ocean
Slow dancing waves
Washing away all the worries
Embracing me with love
Love so big that’s out of this world
For the little child inside of me
I’m sitting in the shallow water
Looking straight into the orange sunset
Glitters on the surface
The water is warm
The whole place is warm
I am warm
Because the sun is still out there
