Dreams are such strange things. Indeterminate times and places, strangers, people you haven't seen for eons showing up in the oddest of places, people who are thousands of miles away walking through the halls of your high school as your sixth grade teacher appears in a doorway. "Mrs. Baylor?" I was just as confused in the midst of the dream as I am on this waking side of it. These uncanny nocturnal trips of the mind have the ability to leave you in an odd feeling haze for the first few hours of the morning. Feeling like something happened, yet knowing it didn't. Feeling like you just had very important conversations with people and yet in reality, those words have yet to be said.
Most things these days are occurring in the context that I'm boarding a plane in a few days for a far away, rather volatile place. I've maintained a grounded sort of peace, until one or more persons say words that effectively rip that peace from my spirit and leave mild panic in its wake. Sometimes it isn't easy to tell who can be trusted - who has knowledge I should listen to and who is speaking out of their own fear. These mental gymnastics are exhausting. After a night of dream-addled sleep, I awake and the peace is back, the reason and the sense of being grounded having returned, only partnered now on the periphery with the lingering, uncomfortable remnants of the dream.
I wonder why our mind creates these stories - if they have anything at all to do with reality or are just the mind's way of coping with too much information and emotion being thrown at it in a 24-hour period. Daylight and strong coffee seem to be an effective cure. So I go back to re-packing my suitcase for the eightieth time and continue facing this thing head on. At this point, it's all there is left to do.
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