I wake from another dream in which I was with people I love who have long since passed on from this world. Dreams with Mom, Dad, Aunt Edie, and Uncle Bill set in places I feel most at home that are so real it’s hard to leave them. They have been coming regularly the past few months, and I always wake clothed in bittersweet sehnsucht.
I wonder what they mean, these forays into the past where I feel safe and cherished in a way that fades when one becomes an adult, and childhood constants have gone on. A respite, a return to a time when burdens were carried by someone other than me? An indication of weariness? Or simply a longing for place and people?
I don’t know, but the sweetness of these dreams is holding me right now.
In a world that feels harsh and uncertain, where I’m tired and yearn to move through the liminality of these days and for the After to unfold, yet, at the same time, kinda dread it—dream space serves as a sanctuary. Who could have imagined a time such as this? Yet here we are. Here I am. Here you are.
I don’t believe in coincidence and trust there’s a reason we are here, right now, when we wish things were different. There’s something unique we still have to offer this groaning world.
It’s still hard. Not gonna sugarcoat it. The struggle to get through some days is a mighty one. We’re all getting so, so, so weary. At least that’s now it’s unfolding for me. I’m sick of mandates, and restrictions, and updates and everything else that’s tainted with this pandemic.
So, I dream, and escape for a while to a place that seems refreshingly normal. Whatever it takes to shore up resources so I can offer something fresh during another day in the twilight zone.