reoccurring dream

“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud
was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.” 
~Anais Nin

i am rewiring my brain.  ever so slowly on some days, sure. but i can feel it. the thoughts turn toward actions, toward empowerment, toward doing and being.

a friend of mine sent me an email in response to my jellybones ramblings of insecurity and all things human. her words came through the wires at the same moment a light clicked on somewhere above my head. the same moment i grabbed the reins. the same day i took this photo for whatever reason i don’t know why.

sometimes i do things and i don’t know why.
i always seem to find out the reason later.

i think her exact words were “remind your self to get the fuck out of your own way.” and she couldn’t be more right on. it’s true, i have no say in what comes through me, in what the world needs of me. i must simply listen to my heart and obey and not question it.

move forward.

the reoccurring dream is lack of voice. or more specifically a mouth shoved full to the point of gagging. black and white, the need to scream with a mouthful of sticky sticky bubblegum blocking my way. the more i pull the gum out, the more it fills my mouth sticking in my teeth gagging me leaving me voiceless when i most need to scream.

i woke up a few days ago and my voice was hoarse. i had tossed and turned all night in my dreams. waking again and again to the same movie scene. the three story summer homes of the jersey shore, the wrought iron beds, the long hallways that turned creepy once night fell. i was a grown woman in my childhood dreams too big now for the guest bed i would occupy during the summer.

i was looking for her. the light flicked on and off. she’s lost from me and i’m calling out for her. “mom… mom…” i’m not frantic like i was when i was a child. i am missing her now, knowing she is lost from me. the only difference now is that when i open my mouth, what comes out is a whisper. 

i’m finding my voice. it’s growing stronger every day.