I had a few strange dreams this week. Perhaps it was the last bout of jelly belly that contributed to this outcome. Admittedly I was relieved none of the dreams were of the waking variety. Chicken curry will do that to me.
In the wee hours of Monday morning, I found myself inside a burning house that someone had deliberately lit. While I managed to escape the burning timber, the intense heat left me worse for wear. Just before sunrise on Tuesday morning, my dream involved running water. I stood under a shower - freezing water spearing down upon me, beading over my skin, as a strange man put a razor to my legs. Left me smooth, yet frozen through to my core. Fire and ice.
Think the dreams are sending me mixed signals. Think some people in my life are doing the same thing.
After the second dream, I had trouble sleeping on Monday night. Well, it was that and the nausea from the jelly belly. Found myself at my computer at the time when I am often inspired – some time during the witching hour - in the middle of a conversation with a relatively new person in my life about emotional connection. It occurred to me after that chat it was in the realms of possibility that perhaps I send mixed signals too.
At times I think I have chameleon leanings – people experience me they way they want to. I am not saying that those I spend time with define who I am. I am also not saying who I spend time with merely reflect who I am at the time. At least I do not believe so.
I am all and none of the things that people see in me. The only thing I can say with resolute certainty is that I am fond of camouflage. I will be whomever you want me to be - just don’t ask me to be myself.
I reflect upon that witching hour conversation realising that I sometimes struggle with emotional connection no matter how much it appears externally to be otherwise. I can be in the moment so completely with such radiating warmth that any person experiencing it with me can easily judge my feelings to be intense and real. But I can be cold and distant too, a person so difficult to reach that any person experiencing that sleet piercing their skin will wonder if I am touchable at all. And, if I am not sure of the validity of those feelings, then how can the person experiencing them with me be? Fire and ice.
And in that cocooned darkness, in what seemed like a lifetime before the dawn's rebirth, I penned the following words:
White noise -
Sometimes in the background;
where it should be.
Sometimes so loud, so clamouring,
it is deafening.
Drowns out all other sounds.
Cannot hear or distinguish
what is real.
And what doesn’t matter.
Hidden in the static and debris.
Any desire to make a choice.