4/09/16 - 04:05AM
I woke up with a bubble of crying in my voice. I was so bewildered that I grabbed my notebook and began to write the entire dream as I remembered - then I went back and filled in the explanations to make it readable to a mind other than my own. What follows is the most reduced version of self and the need to study and attempt to understand my mind - the matter above the matter. Sometimes it's maddening - sometimes I'm a simple observer to my own existence just trying to see myself, not in the eyes of now, but in the eyes of what has always been and what will always be while surrendering to the now...
Can you dream in a metaphor? I believe I just did...
My Godmother Marguerite's house. This is the house that has held everyone I have ever truly loved without question without provocation. It was empty and white and hollow - readying for a transfer of ownership - but the ghosts were all there; those dead, those alive.
Cut to my marital home - the one I strove to mimic my Godmother's - complete with yard, lavish parties, orchestrated holidays. My room was at the top of the stairs - my boys were young, very young and playing outside in the sun - it streamed through my window. then dusk seemed to come suddenly throwing shadows everywhere and my ex-husband (Bill) was walking up the stairs with my Godfather Bill. They were laughing but only my ex-husband came into the room. He was there to pick up the boys and we had reached a polite stage of communication - as if we were simple acquaintances and hadn't cosmically collided at any point creating two human beings and enmeshing our lives for a spell in the story of eternity. We had become strangers - but there was always an unspoken horror between us post divorce.
We had tried a few times to right things - days before the gavel fell and for about a year after -living separately. It had been an endless game of cat and mouse; when he wanted to reconcile I would resist - bypassing the urge, knowing I loved him but not being able to trust him. And then I had moments when I wanted to run back to the safety I thought he was, but I would wait it out. I believe it was the same for him. At any time we could've fallen back into those patterns- life grooves from a dull needle on a very worn record, and the unspoken horror could've taken up residence in the marriage.
"I wanted to talk to you" I said.
"About what Chris? Marriage?" he laughed 'you want to get remarried?' he chuckled with that small boyish look that begged 'don't reject me,' 'don't leave me like my mother did'... but I had already had, hadn't I?
But it was that little boy look that got me every time. The hurt little boy that grew into the hurt man - that little boy I see in my own little boys, rejected by his mother and as a result he would preemptively, unconsciously, make certain he would always have an out in any relationship. He would make certain he fucked them up first - whether the women knew it or not. And when they did find out (because a pattern is a pattern) he really wasn't that surprised and somehow able to remain solid and table each marriage, each relationship as an acquaintance that never truly got all that close anyway.
In my dream I consciously said 'No, but I am getting married.' I let that sink in. He closed his eyes like one that had been dealt a death blow - like someone or something they truly loved just ceased to exist. On his closed thin eyelids in the shadows of blues from dusk I witnessed all the pain he had lived, he had caused, he had carried - all in one moment. It was overwhelming, even for someone with a hard heart, such as I had cultured. So I verbally stumbled on...
"I met someone, I knew him when I was younger - he lives in Oregon and is in conservation engineering, (In my dream this registered true - though in conscious life it is not) 'You know I love that stuff (In dream registered true) He has a little boy (In dream registered true) Our boys will be the big brothers - they love him, it's an easy fit, we are leaving next week.
He looked at me and smiled defeat. 'Well then there's no competition Chris. I can't compete with that."
"You see' I said 'that's the problem. He's a great guy ( I was holding a pic of him in my hand) and I do care for him deeply..but...when I tell him I love him it doesn't ring true. Not really. It's true that I love him, but not with the depth, the ALL that I loved you with - that I still love you with, that I will ALWAYS love you with.' He hugged me and I broke a bit. And in my dream I only saw my own face streaming with tears. "I loved you so much. Why did you hurt me? I still love you but I can't be with you - yet I want to be sometimes. This guy deserves someone who loves him like that - someone that can say it with their ALL. I can't say those words to him, I never will be able to because there is still you. I miss you. I miss you so much sometimes - the dumb shit we used to do. Even if on your side it wasn't ever real - but for me it was! It was REAL. Regret gathered in my soul with the deafening roar of acceptance.
Then I was standing in my Godmothers kitchen. It was large and white - a big galley. I was buying it, or she was giving it to me. But it was empty. So very empty. And so white, and it was just me there all alone. I thought of all the people I loved that it had held. The parties, the gatherings, the dinners. You can never re-create that. It's not a set.
Your moments must be organic connections - real - spontaneous - and maybe you only get them for a little while. Maybe true love is like serotonin - when over fired it can deplete, but you're human. You're always gonna chase it but you know it's never as good as the first time. It's never as good as the real love and moments, and the trickery is you don't always know what the real moments are until you have a 'set' of engineered ones to compare them with.
There in lies the wistful truth, yes? The knowing. The terror of the knowing.
Best to believe every moment has the potential to be THE moment; the moment of love, of honesty, of truth, of happiness. Don't worry about the hard moments so much. Believe me, you'll rack those up - but remember that your cosmic DNA dictates that you survive - that you walk exposed, get sliced, bleed, and repair.
Make the choice. Choose to remain open. Great hurt is only known while standing next to excruciating JOY. Great Forgiveness is only achieved when you acknowledge regret and begin the practice of forgiveness within your own heart.
The beauty is not over until it is, and even then you may not realize your life as the truly magnificent celestial breath that it was. SO BELIEVE IT IS NOW.
Great Sadness and fear can strike at anytime but if you should find yourself in the throes of it KNOW WITH EVERY FIBER OF YOUR BEING GREAT JOY AND LOVE CAN STRIKE ANYTIME AS WELL. You can never truly know one without the other. So cry. And wait. And pray the hard stuff down because the good stuff can't be far from you. Its a balance through the Epochs - through the seed of the dream that everything began with.
I looked a the galley kitchen that was to be mine. I saw the keys in my little girl hands and put them on the counter. I took a slow last look, heard the echoes that once were and the stillness that is now. I turned to the arch way that lead to the door where the sun was so bright I may've been walking into the sky.
Some things we should never see as empty.
Today is here
Namaste
