A Dream in My Mind

I have this recurrent fantasy where I’m lost in a forest so deep it’s purple.  The grass is black, the moss creeping up the trees is black, the birds chatter like the noise in my head.  Hungry wolves are near, always near.  Then, there, there’s an opening of light not far off, finally.  I walk to it, unable to cry anymore, unable to care anymore with hope.  But I go anyways.  There’s a field of strawberries spread before me, and mountains in the back like Switzerland.  At the end of the field there is a cottage with smoke coming out of a

Around the Island Photography at Etsy
Around the Island Photography at Etsy

stone chimney.  I walk through the white blossoms.  A crab apple tree slouches in the back of the cottage where the pink and white petals fall like snow.  I smell honeysuckle.  The noise is gone, the birds have turned into song, but I don’t notice this yet.  The sky has never been so blue, the grass so fragrant.

I knock on the wooden door but no one answers.  It’s unlocked so I open it and enter.  An old stove holds pots bubbling and boiling, fresh strawberries on the table by a window that has no glass.  Checked curtains sway in a gentle breeze.  “Hello?” I call but no one answers.  A hound sleeps lazily on its bed by the door, and a cat leaps to the counter by a bowl of eggs.  I walk through the rooms, doors framed in oak, a bed swathed in a handmade quilt, a basin of water.  I’m suddenly tired.  So tired.  I’ve never been so tired in my life.  And at last, at last, it must be safe to sleep.  Safe to sleep.  What a relief.  I lay down on the quilt, the springs squeaking beneath me.  Hours pass, and then days, and then weeks, and then months.  I wake to an old woman in an apron, holding a cool washcloth to my forehead.

“Where am I?” I ask, unalarmed–a new feeling.

“You’ve made it, my dear, you’ve made it home. It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.”

6 thoughts on “A Dream in My Mind

  1. This is a wonderful, healing fantasy. It’s about getting healthy. You keep on walking toward that light – something is propelling you past your cynicism, past your disbelief, past everything you know. You just walk and arrive at your salvation – this is important – you knock and no one answers, no one provides your deliverance, you must provide it for yourself. You walk in and you see the familiar trappings of home. Once you are finally home and safe, the weight of all you’ve been carrying finally takes it toll, and you fall asleep safe with the protection of the hound, and the soft comfort of the cat (who will presumably jump up on the bed with you and snuggle against your warm). You sleep, hours to days to weeks to years – long enough to heal and when you awake, a kindly woman (who won’t hurt you-which I’m presuming is also you in the future) awakens you gently and welcomes you home. You don’t flinch, you awaken with feelings (and a soul) renewed.

    This is a marvelous dream – now that you’ve had it, you can see how integral you are to your own healing. I think this is a wonderful sign (from above and from within). I send you love, a firm embrace, and keep sending prayers for your continued healing, your pal in California, moskowitz

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