dreaming in reverse

There are times when I guess my mind decompresses from the stress of the day by replaying its events, albeit bizarrely, in the form of my nightdreaming. I usually awaken the next morning somewhat confused, maybe even with some blurred lines between what was real and what was the dreaming, but ready to move on with the day.

Things have been changing a little lately.

Lately I'm sort of dreaming in reverse. Well, not reverse exactly. It's more like my mind has a backload of work that it has to process through, so my mind and my dreams are off-sync by about 4 days right now. In other words, last night I dreamed about the events of about 4 days ago; the night-before-last, I dreamed about what happened 5 days ago. I suspect that, because today was kind of boring (or at least low-key, because I was taught long ago that you're only 'bored' if you're 'boring'--ack!) I might catch up on 2 days' worth of dreaming and will have some really wild mashup of Tuesday and Wednesday. This might be a good thing, since life has been going by too quickly lately and I can't remember so well, at least when I'm waking, what happened that long ago.

It would really be cool if I not only caught up in my dreaming, but actually got ahead a little bit and started having contorted prophetic dreams about what was going to happen in the next couple of days. Maybe if I sit really still for about 48 hours, my mind will have a chance to catch up and show me some interesting things.

Then again, I might just have desperately long, dreadfully boring dreams about myself sitting, waiting. Hmm.
--Teri.

sacred sorrow

i'm wrapped
folded
maybe tangled--
inside this warmth,
the quiet of a sacred brown sorrow;
dark like a dirty teardrop,
deeper than the dreaming.

--teri.

peace

When faced with life-altering decisions, I always find myself expecting a lighted path, maybe some neon and flashers, pointing the way to the right choice. And I expect there to be an accompanying feeling of serenity that surrounds and imbues the decision, once made, with an aura of rightness.

I was faced with one of those decisions today, and I concentrated very hard in my mind to pick out the bright lights, recalling the psalmist David who once wrote, "You are a light to my path..." when reminding himself that God had a hand in this decision-making business. Ernest as I was, though, no illumination appeared. Instead, what I got was an image of me, on a bike, at a fork in the road, both paths obscured by deep fog. I pictured myself choosing the more exciting path to the right and sailing off into the fog, breathless and exhilirated, and then I pictured myself turning away from it and, suddenly on my feet, walking somberly into the fog on the left and into the less exciting but more stable decision.

Both paths carried with them unknown risks, unforeseen outcomes, hidden joys and sorrows. And I had no idea which one was the right path.

I finally chose the stable path into the unknown, and I think it was the right decision...for now. And now I'm wondering what peace feels like. If this is peace, it feels profound, like an amputation, only less painful in a way. It feels serious, like a prison sentence, but without the shame. And it feels hollow, like a little piece of my heart is gone, only without the ache. Maybe it's like the feeling of just having birthed a baby, when you realize that there's a huge part of you missing, only it's not missing at all, and you struggle to reconcile the bodily sensation of sudden vacancy to the spiritual feeling of overwhelming completion.

There weren't any attending angels holding lanterns over this foggy path I chose to tread today, but I think there was a peace, uneasy and awkward as it may be, and I think I can walk now into the shrouded unknown of a decision made and feel my footfalls landing softly on the quiet solid of my future.

--Teri.