The Nature of Dreams

One one-thousandth of a second.

Something in the atmosphere triggers my rage long before my brain can process the cause. Betrayal! I begin to radiate heat along sharply angled paths from the center of my chest. All my muscles tense up, and my head starts to throb.

Two one-thousandths of a second.

A quick breath followed by another helps me push down the anger. In and out slowly. The unfamiliar scent upon you identified as the trigger—the breath allowing the mind to catch up and process intelligently what the lizard brain can’t. Flowers held behind your back now thrust to me, surprising me.

Small

I dreamt that I was a young child maybe four or five. I was scared and confused because my room was being emptied item by item by an invisible force. I tried to save my precious things but they disappeared too no matter how hard I struggled to hold on. I was alone in the house I didn’t have anyone who could save me. I knew that once the last thing disappeared I would be next and the thought filled me with terror and, relief?

Observer

For years you’ve searched and longed to find your bliss. Yet when the moment presented itself you let fear steal your joy. I stood mutely while you destroyed your opportunity. I had to let you live, die and relinquish my expectations that someday you’d know happiness.

A Good Bad Dream

I was outside my house, the one on Hollyhock, in the front yard underneath a tree. I was working on my bike. I wasn’t allowed back inside. I felt the sunshine on my face coming through the tree in a semi rhythmic way as the wind gently blew the leaves, I was shaded then unshaded. I felt the warm breeze dry the tears from my cheeks. There was no specific reason for the tears I couldn’t tell if they were happy or sad. There was only a vague sense of unease filling me. Unable to remember the cause, fear stirring inside me. I knew I had to go and there wasn’t much time. I had to leave before who? what?

I tried to ride off, but the chain kept slipping and skipping. Wishing I had my own tools I was forced to go back. Sitting in the dirt I tried to tighten the chain without success. I cut the palm of my hand removing a link from the chain. The blood was mixing with the dirt and grease on the bicycle chain. I got distracted watching it drip from my hand onto an ant that had gotten in the way. I had nothing to clean the wound with, so I wiped my hand on my pant leg. The cut was deep, it burned and throbbed but I wasn’t allowed back inside.

I rode off again but in the way that usually happens in dreams, it became a big truck. The sun’s glare was in my eyes and I was having a hard time seeing. It was so bright it was burning my eyes and making my head ache. I felt responsible to keep going even though I felt out of control. I didn’t know where I was going, I just knew to drive and go fast. I was angry I felt betrayed, but I couldn’t articulate the reasons for it in my head. I had hot angry tears that wouldn’t quite fall from my eyes. The a/c was blowing hot dusty stale air in my face further irritating me. I just knew I was not going to be allowed back inside.

 I wake up clenching my jaw and my hands in fists in the morning.

Gifts

I’m not turning away I’m trying to understand.

Allowing the muscles to spasm, pulling my shoulders back, head forward. I don’t fight my grief, I scream from deep inside my belly at what is lost, what is gone.

After my breath has been exhausted my visitor departs. I lay on my bed head pounding, eyes burning with bitter tears. I let the pain flow through me and embrace me. I embrace it in return until it dissipates and I understand.