I woke in the middle of the night to a sound that was not mine. It was low, a breath from another world.
My dream had been intense. I was crying and could not catch my breath. It jarred me awake and I heard it.
It had come from somewhare behind me as I lay with my back toward the wall. There was nothing there but a pillow.
I lay in the 'inbetween' world for a bit, listening, catching my breath. Someone had died in my dream. It was someone I knew, but did not know. Someone who's death hit me like a blow.
Those around me tried to console me, but they could not. I tried to breathe. No air would come.
I lay there with my eyes closed for a bit, feeling the feels of being here and there at once, not wanting it to come to an end. Energetically I grasped for the path that led me there.
As it slipped away, I tried to remember the people around me, the someone who died, the room, the words they were saying. It faded into the end scene, of me in panic.
I realized the me in my dream, in that other place, was not me. I was there, in her/him, yet it was not my face, it was not my hair, the person who died was not mine.
I tried to go back to sleep. I drifted, I jarred awake, I drifted, I jarred awake. As if a door kept slamming me back to my body.
Where do we go? Where do we go at night when we dream?
How do we get in? Or how do we get out?
What wave do we ride to other dimensions? How do we catch it? Do we get to choose?
Do we go to do something? Learn something? Explore? Remember?
The breath behind me was me. It was not me. It was mine. It was not mine. I had left it behind when I reconnected with this body that is home to me. It was behind me through the veil I had just passed through.
Some mornings when I wake, when my dreams have been lively, active, my body is heavy, I am exhausted, as if I truly was some place else.
They are vivid!
They are intense in the imagery, I am vested in the outcome, yet outside of the effects. It is as if in that world, I can do anything with no consequence. The only thing that jolts me back is a sort of limitation in this world, calling me back in fear. Is that me? Is it my body?
When we have many dreams in a night, how do we go between the inbetween worlds? And why?
I tried to go back to sleep early this morning. I have a long day ahead, and was hoping to get some more rest. My body, though, was done. It is as if I go and play in the night, and my body does the resting. I confuse the me with my body. Is it my energetic being that is tired? And why would it be tired, being energy?
I love dreams. When I hear someone say they don't dream, or they don't remember them, it seems to be the saddest thing to me.
In dreams we play, we soar, we learn. In dreams we get to experience things not of this world.
We get to fly down a dirt road in a driverless truck weaving, bouncing, laughing, and safe. A joyride.
We get to swim in a lagoon warmed by light coming from below, with a whirlpool forming endangering you while you watch yourself from above and call a dolphin to the rescue.
We get to be a spy, in a gunfight, in the small town you used to live in, but that looks like it did when you were a kid, saving everyone.
We get to explore ourselves inside those worlds, to glimpse a bit of who we truly be energetically. Or maybe who we were. Or who we will be?
What if all the places we go are places we have actually been? Lived in, through, but different. Past. Present. Future.
If time is relative, not linear, maybe our dreams are the walkway through it. Maybe they are the lives we have and will live in that we are connected to.
Maybe this world is mine. Yours is yours. And each world exists side by side with all of the others we have ever lived in, and created.
I cherish my time dreaming. I may not remember all of the ones I have had, but I do remember a fair few. Some dating back to the very young version of me. Why do some dreams stick with us? Are they the most recent lives we have led or will lead? Are they the only things we will take with us no matter where or when we move on?
I look forward to tonight, and wonder what dreams will come.
"For in dreams we enter a world that is entirely our own." -Albus Dumbledore
About the Creator
Musings and imaginings from the brain of a fifty something year old Gemini who sold everything and moved to Los Angeles in 2018.
I am no professional, I write because it brings me joy, release, and peace.