Affirmation: You are the Dreamweaver.

I am a dreamer. I've always been this way. I remember in elementary school my teacher would write on my report card, "a bright student but spends a lot of time daydreaming". This was not a compliment. I found myself feeling embarrassed that she had noticed me in one of my reveries. They were intensely private things, not something you should be observing and I felt slightly violated that she not only saw me, but had the nerve to tell my parents about it.

They were not happy.

So I learned to keep my daydreaming under wraps. I'd focus on my book or on my pencil, faking a look of concentration too deep to be interrupted. Meanwhile my mind was miles and miles ahead of me, projecting a version of me that was cooler than the reality. This version of me saved the world and everyone wanted to be my friend. I'd snap back into focus when the teacher called my name, or if I felt her walking near. She never caught on. I understood that this was the way it had to be.

I learned to hide my dreams from others. They became secret things that only I knew about. I guarded them fiercely. I did this because they were insanely important to me. I did this because I was incredibly fragile. All it took was one word of displeasure and suddenly shame and guilt would flood through me. I didn't want to feel that way towards things that made me feel so good about myself. They were the only things I had.

I'd reserve the really big dreams for night. I'd fantasize about being this incredible heroine, unaware of my own power until I was put into a situation that forced me to act. Once the situation arose I'd bravely stand up and the people who I would save would look at me, some in confusion, others in awe as I faced whatever monster I had dreamed up that night. The monster would never be aware of my power. The monster would always laugh at insignificant me as I walked towards it, the wind blowing my clothes and hair (wind was central to my daydreams. What better way for a child to convey power?). It would always say, You child? You have come to face me? and I would respond with this power so blinding that it would catch the monster unaware. The people would suddenly understand that I was not some stupid little thing. I was important. I was worth something. And I'd end these dreams and slip into a sleep that only peaceful imaginings can bring.

It's taken me years to realize that all I wanted at those moments in my life was to feel like I mattered. My fantasies gave me something reality did not. It gave me a way to show that I had something to offer the world, that I was important. The monsters were not monsters at all, they were the embodiment off all the things in my life that made me feel small, made me feel insignificant and unimportant. I wanted to prove them wrong. And I did. In my daydreams, I always did.

Now as an adult I remember those fantasies and smile. I'd like to think that I'm equipped with a better understanding of who I am and the strength I possess. I've come to realize that as a child I was able to weave feelings of importance into my daily life, even if they were only met out in my imagination. Those daydreams were enough to fuel me for another day. They were the batteries in which I charged myself from, allowing me to withstand the bullies and the loneliness and the feelings of not quite fitting in. I was a weaver of positive dreams. I was able to make another me, another world where I was not the outcast. It's a power I still hold on to today. It helped me to survive.

To those of you who are perpetual dreamers who feel as if they will amount to nothing, or get you nowhere, I want to tell you this: there is great power in the dreams we cast. Don't take them for granted. Don't underestimate them. They came from you, a manifestation of your desires. Create them, build them. Guard them and let them grow. They are yours, and they are worthy. You are worthy.

The Fall, The Snow.

Winter, winter, winter. What am I going to do with you? Your looming presence is visible everywhere. Already the skies grow grey, preparing for your arrival. The leaves shrivel in response to your heartless chill. 

I don't want you to come.

I'm a lover of autumn. The crisp blue skies sweeping above the multitudinous shades of red, orange and yellow leaves leaves me in awe. The warm, almost loving caress of honey colored gold sunlight makes me feel grateful to be alive. And then, when I walk under the canopy of those ever-changing leaves, with nothing but silence to accompany me, I feel peace. True, unequivocal serenity.  I become a little more aware if who I am. 

But everything is eventual. Winter will come. Perhaps this year I will find solace in the gentle cascade of white, blanketing the world. Or maybe I'll find joy in the way the snowflakes resemble softly lit falling stars, illuminated by the street lamps as I walk home at night. Perhaps. We'll see. 

You Are

Theres a moment just before waking up when everything comes together. You know that you are. Not exactly who you are. Simply that, you are. And that's enough. Because in that passage of time before the mind suddenly blooms awake and you open your eyes, all you have is your body, and the gentle rhythm of your breathing to signify that you are alive. Somewhere in the part of your mind where color has faded, and sound is mere suggestion, you dream those dreams that are frightening and beautiful and cryptic. And they simply are. There's no need for interpretation. And for you, this is ok. You are living the dreams' moment. Those sad, amazing, powerful, beautiful, frightening images are filled with flight, and you live them someplace deep within your mind, while your body rests. And you are alive.

And then you wake up. And you piece together your name, and your address. You acknowledge the presence of the person sleeping next to you, or you realize that the house is empty and you are alone. You think about those dreams and you try to interpret. You consult your dream book, or the internet, or a friend who you feel is particularly sensitive to the meaning of dreams. You shower away the scent of the night. You eat. You work. And that's life. That's living for you. You forget that you are. Now you're only focused on who you are. This matters. But not enough. Because you still question, you still wonder.

You still dream.

The Nameless Thing.

My dreams are faceless, soundless things. They hold no weight, choosing instead to settle themselves within the curve of my collarbone or the stoop of my (less than perfect) posture. I can feel them radiating their warmth and encouragement. And sometimes when trigger words pop into my everyday life, I could feel my dreams shudder, as if suddenly awakened by a force too great to name.

I want to name it "hope" but I'm afraid.

So it remains this nameless thing, causing my dreams to tremble and shine and move me in the way only dreams could. And I could feel their energy in the pit of my stomach, where my fear resides, bubbling and ready to overflow. I could feel them in my heart, where this nameless thing unfurls momentarily and leaves me breathless. It's a beautiful terrifying moment.

Some part of me, that believes in the universe trying to communicate and set us confused humans on the right path, believes that these triggers are the universe's way of saying, "Go on, this is yours! Do it! Don't be afraid!" And for a split second, resolve burns within me and I feel light-headed with possibility. But then there's another part. A quieter part. A deeper part, that whispers, "You'll only fail. You'll always fail. Don't even bother. What's the point?" And just like that, the resolve crumbles inside me. I feel angry at myself. I'm ashamed of my cowardice. I want to scream back at that quiet part of me that always makes me feel so small. I want to fight those words that always makes me hesitate.

But I don't.

Instead, I move through the world with my weightless dreams clinging to me as if they are all that's left in my life. And when a trigger word pops back into my existence, I savor that beautiful moment when I feel my dreams shake and shimmer. I smile at that familiar, nameless feeling opening in my heart and I allow myself a brief moment to consider that the maybe the universe really is showing me the way. It hasn't given up on me. It wants me to be brave and take a chance. One day I'll shake off the whispers that hold me back and I'm gonna answer the universe's call.

Worth It.

There are things in this world worth living for.

You just have to find them.

For me, it's the people in my life who have somehow gotten close to me. They've squeezed their way through my silence and my fears and they've burrowed their own little holes in my heart. My heart's like a little honeycomb filled with people who have yet to give up on me.

That really matters to me. They really matter to me.

And they keep me going. I put them in a to-do list in my mind and schedule seeing them for sometime in the middle and end of the week. That way I can ensure that I go through the motions, do what I'm suppose to do and then I am rewarded with their presence.

We do fun things. Laugh, loiter, become way too loud on public transportation as we talk about our exhausting day to day lives. And for that moment, I feel normal. Like I have things to say. Like I'm worthwhile.

And we eat delicious foods and I feel full. It's not just the food that makes me feel this way. When I go home and I prepare for bed and I think and worry and wonder, they are part of my thoughts, pushing away the gray, at least momentarily. And this feels good. I sleep.

And then I wake up, knowing there are things in this world worth living for.

Return

How long has it been since I've posted anything on this?

A very long time. Perhaps too long, since in between that long space my mind has been swimming and thoughts have been stirring that has both elated and terrified me. Thoughts of the future, a fantasy of success and independence has been trumped by the reality of insatiable bills and poor pay and the utter suckishness of being an adult. 

But I've been reading a lot of positive literature like, "The Secret" and writings by Deepak Chopra and I'm kinda convinced that in order to lead a happier less suckish life, I have to believe in it. So I daydream. And I work. And I fill my mind with bursts of color that drowns out the gray that seems to spread into my vision like black oil in a clean body of water. I mean, life isn't that bad. Not really. So there's no reason to cry about it. 

I have The Walking Dead to look forward to. 

Game of Thrones too. Awesome. 

And it's autumn, my favorite time of year. Pumpkins! Scary movies! Fall foliage! Wee!

So it's not that bad. 

I just need to work on the gray fringes of my life. Get some more color in there. Jump in a rainbow or something like that. 

I'll see how it goes. 

Here you can call the shadow your brother
And the light your distant friend
But there is no
Other
Companion closer than your skin
Your heart
Your mind
And the silence that curves between
The length of  your breaths