I don’t really dream. When I sleep, I sleep. Rarely do I dream. I am also not superstitious. That said I have had a few “mystical” experiences in my life. Nothing that can be explained really, just things that happen. I do not appreciate these things and I have had a rush of them lately.
A girl I met, I little girl, who I am certain even now needed, needs help. But what can I do? What? I am a stranger and I know nothing of her, her family , her life. I know nothing except that she was in pain. And here, a week later I still think of her, I worry and hope that someone braver then I has noticed her pain, is giving her the sanctuary she needs.
And then a dream, a dream that comes three, four times a night. A vision? A premonition? An admonition? In my dream I am told in a matter of fact way something (something I don’t care to share) and my whole soul rebels against the very idea, I am awake and tired, exhausted. Two nights of sleeplessness. It is as if I am to be told until I except it, embrace it.
My wakened mind cries out “Bosh!”.
It frightens me none the less.
And then in life, in life, the real daytime moments, I am struggling to make sense of my new home, unpack, leave things the way they are until we get shelves up, wade through a bin of clothes until the dressers are moved. Departing from our traditional school for something basic and off track, but school nonetheless. Feeling frustrated and impatient.
Halloween and not a costume is complete , I haven’t even begun. I mean to shuffle through the aisles of local shops everytime I am out, but when I am out I just want to be home, so I look at my list and hurry through, bent on finding what I need.
Apparently routine, structure is more important to me then I knew.
I am tired.
I am washed ashore, on an island of beauty and promise, and I am frightened, clinging to the wreckage of my ship.
Today is a Thursday sort of day.