A Glimpse Into My Life

See it through my eyes & understand me a little more

Realistic Dreams (Crossroads pt. 2)

I had a strange dream. My sleep patterns have been off in a major way and that may have something to do with the amount of time I’ve been giving to this whole idea of happiness. The question that came up in my dream was: when deciding between the lesser of two evils, which do you pick? Better yet, how do you make the decision?

One question I’ve continued to pose to myself is whether I’m less okay with waking up in the future having lived a life I didn’t want OR being a person I tried my hardest not to become? I’m recognizing that fear has been a major factor in how I made my decisions. It wasn’t which path is easiest to travel but which path seemed to be more acceptable to the people in my life.

I woke up in a state of confusion and I panicked. I had a dream that felt so real I was concerned for a moment. The dream itself wasn’t bad because the scene that played out was one that I’ve wished for pretty much my entire life. I wanted a family and I wanted that family to be loving, caring and supportive of me. Except the dream wasn’t my current family. This dream was a futuristic me and the family was one I helped to create. And I felt loved. I felt cared for. I felt supported.

And I woke up in a panic.

In that moment, I realized that my biggest fear wasn’t being alone or being forgotten like I’ve told myself so many times before. Rather it was waking up wondering if I was the person I wanted to be. Did I like myself when I looked in the mirror? Did I recognize myself? Was I proud of me? Was I happy?

Waking up in a panic let me know that I wasn’t happy with that dream. The more I thought about it, the more frustrated I became. In front of me was everything I ever wanted and yet, I didn’t want that. So I began to think of the details in the dreams. The rooms were plain and didn’t reflect anything I wanted to do for myself. There were no pictures or art from places I’d visited. There were no awards with my name on them. There wasn’t room for creativity and everything was boring. Everything was stuffy. Everything was monotonous.

It was safe.

And I was unhappy. As I thought about what was reflected in my surroundings, I began to cry. I’d been safe my whole life. I wasn’t daring and I wasn’t creative and I wasn’t confident in my dreams. There were no pieces of me there. No authentic expression of who I felt I was on the inside. I’d lived an entire life for other people. Making sure that nothing I did was uncomfortable for them or disturbing in any way. At that moment, I started to cry because the only thing I had to show for my unhappiness was the comfort level of other people. And in that moment, I started to cry harder than I had in a while. But this time…

I woke up for real.

To be continued…


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