Do you write about your dreams? The wonderful thing is that you can always choose what meaning you make of them and what to leave behind. After all, what is life if not an amalgamation of stories and light and shadows passed down through generations upon generations?
I dreamt that I was walking down a path with a man towards a woman who I once loved, or perhaps I still did. He seemed to be in his late thirties or early forties, dressed in baggy mustard colored pants and a long blue flannel. Paradoxically, he walked with a slouched posture but a sort of quiet confidence that unsettled me. He had a grizzled beard, long hair, and struck me as a man full of quiet truths, but I could only feel a sharp twinge of sadness with every word that he spoke. I could feel the pull of my heartstrings at every moment that he shared with me what she wanted and how he understood it. All I felt that I could do was walk with him and feel my heart being tuned like the dusting of old guitar strings that could snap at any moment’s notice. As we walked together, I felt an uncomfortable acceptance building in his concise language and what that truly meant for our path together. I just listened as my steps forward became more labored. I could envision a smile from her in the distance as my foreground began to blur and the path forward was lost. I stopped for what felt like an eternity until I turned around and began to walk to where I had come from. Before I sat down for a coffee at a small cafe near me, I began to realize that I wasn’t the man that was meant to be walking ahead towards that smile. I sat with this realization for what felt like for ages as I sipped on my coffee, quietly pondering what steps I would take. Finally, it was time to get up and walk to wherever the rest of this dream would take me.
What will your dreams bring to you?
Chris