RFOM_S1.jpg RFOM_S2.jpg cloud_dancer.jpg

I was visited again by the dream last night.  The one where the perpetrator comes.  Where I lose my voice and can't say no.  Where the laryngitis sets in and I can barely speak at all; barely utter a sound except a garbled, gritty moan which somehow, midst everything, leads to a feeling of shame...  Where my body doesn't respond to my thought-commands and I can't move, and it's nearly impossible to writhe out from under and away.

It's been a very long time since this dream has found me.  I take it as a sign that yes, indeed, the stresses of 2020 have finally touched me too in ways that are seeping in to the subconscious and trickling through to my heart and soul.

I thought about posting this dreamtime update on social media, but I did not.  I've a low-drama persona there; didn't want to shock anyone.  Also, it occured to me that someone in my feed would reply with something such as:  'There's help out there.  And I'm sorry you're going through that."  Truth is, especially in my twenties, I've sought out help in various forms, and most of the time it's been absolutely amazing.  Life-altering.  Even when it's been the kind of help that takes years to unfold, and what I really come away with is a renewed sense of patience and faith.

...What I've learned most of all from such help, however, is that I do not need and never did need to be fixed.  My experiences are sacred, and they are an organic part of me.  They're my story; who I am.  I wouldn't know myself without my scars and my beauty marks and my sharp edges.  I cherish the fact that, in my own humble opinion, I'm a hero.

And the dream, when it comes... no matter how it manifests (b/c each time it's different)...  I consider it a signpost of sorts.  It's a reminder, though not always a gentle one, that I am feeling vulnerable.  Perhaps I am stressed.  Perhaps it's time to seek out help and support and a loving shoulder.

The writer in me has noted for months now that the circumstances in which we find ourselves, here in the USA in August 2020, are like Life, Magnified.  They present a grand, albeit challenging and somewhat dark, opportunity.  Each and every one of us  -millions and millions-  are living through these circumstances and experiencing them in a completely unique way.  No two of us are living through the same thing.  Literally.  For instance, I have two daughters ages 13 and 2.  I own a small business and we have a homestead in a very rural area.  My experience would be vastly different if, say, my children were a bit older.  Just that one tweak would change how I walk through these days of a worldwide pandemic, economic and political crises, and the subsequent ripple effects.

My point is, this time is providing us a magnifying lens through which we can choose to realize that in fact every indvidual out there is living their own story.  It's more obvious now than ever, at least to most of us on the planet, yet no more true than ever.  And so, if we grasp this opportunity, we can remind ourselves of this simple fact and carry it with us more consciously through to 2021 and 2022... and hopefully well beyond.

When we meet someone in the course of our day, a stranger or a friend, we can assume nothing about the journey they're taking at that particular moment.  That is somewhat overwhelming yet it's also freeing.  And it's true.  If we are mindful of that, it offers us a clean palette of sorts from which to begin anew and offer ourselves to that interaction with no pre-set conditions or misperceptions or judgments.  You, seeing me today, would have no idea that the dream had visited me last night; you'd have no idea the ramifications or the way it might have triggered or inspired me...

And so, Life Magnified.  An idea, I guess... a reminder... about how we can choose to co-create with others on our path at any given moment, in any given time.


On a related note... I remember being three and four and five years old, and having incredibly vivid dreams of being murdered.  Over and over and over.  Some people claim you never actually die in your dreams, but I did.  Again and again and again.  I was stalked, hunted, killed.  I was executed.  Repeatedly.  One might read into that that something dreadful must have happened to me as a very young child.  Did it?  Or were the dreams simply born of my wild imagination?  Past life experiences?...  Indeed, meeting me today, you might not have an inkling at all what steps have brought me to the place on which I stand, in this moment, at this time.  Life, Magnified.  In all its mysteriousness, in all its incredible scope, in all its simple snapshot moments strung together like intricate beadwork.  -Not quite explicable, somehow, yet extraordinary to ponder.



Newsletter Sign-up!

My Family Too!