An Amazon river sunset
I woke up this morning in a steady tear-flow, vividly recalling the bizarre yet sensical meanderings my mind and spirit took in the absence of consciousness. Boo snuggled in at my feet, looking as if he was standing guard – in protection. My little mystic shield.
I dreamt about Daddy. Not about him, specifically, but I was processing the pain of losing him. I’ve done that a lot in my dreams lately, and it’s astounding how light and happy I’ve been able to feel in the waking hours, because of this. My dream involved a strange, tragic occurrence that happened in a creepy, ethereal town. A family was attacked by demonic creatures, and most were left maimed or dead. The father was who I attached to – he died defending his family. I was discussing this with my mom, as we lingered on a sienna colored street in this frightening town. There was a marshmellow haze everywhere, and while I didn’t feel scared, I felt unbelievably sad. Mom didn’t much care about the tragedy. She had her own to deal with, she said. But I told her in my dream I know what it’s like to lose a father, and that’s what I ached for. Those poor children. I cried and then found myself in this world, drifting on a soggy pillow.
Immediately, I felt grateful. These days, my dreams have been so much about processing my pain and fears, so that I may forge ahead with eyes open. If that isn’t magic, then there’s no such thing.
