I dreamed I was getting married, all ready in a dress, people sitting and waiting. I walked down the aisle, and the light was very bright. I woke up and didn’t know to whom I had been wed.
I dreamed I was in England with people I haven’t seen or spoken to in years. Conversations that may never happen, copious sunlight and bright lights made for an ethereal moment. I was satisfied. It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t horrible. I woke up and felt like I lost something.
I dreamed I was in a social situation I needed to escape. My mother was there, and I somehow decided that I had to leave immediately. I started running across the sand, worried about the waves. I was sliding down a small sand dune, and saw a depression. Thinking it was a hole, I went to step into it. It turned out to be a chasm, and I was terrified. My mother grabbed my arms, “I had a premonition about this,” she cried, and held me as I looked down into black nothingness. I was scared. Hold on, she said, and I woke, heart racing, with a feeling of expanse and agoraphobia.
Now I’m sitting here. It’s grey again outside, and the sunlight is not quite filtering down through the trees. The leaves are all very separate, pretty, and distinct. Some show signs of being a caterpillar’s lunch, others have brown spots, and still other are quietly hanging, not moving, not doing anything. I have coffee to drink, healthy food to eat, and my favorite radio station is playing in the background; I don’t know the song, but it sounds like something I remember from a while ago. So, maybe I do know that song, I don’t even really know anymore. I closed my eyes for a moment, and I woke up.
“I didn’t need these things. I didn’t need them.”