Last night I had two glasses of wine, and I never weed and wine, so I went to bed remarkably sober. As I laid there, I attempted a short meditation, unassisted by weed. Some would call this praying, so I suppose that’s what I did. As with any call for assistance, I asked for some clarity, which to me means a clear and concise answer to whatever it is I’m searching for. Instead, I dreamed about paradise. My parents were there, and so was my best friend. I navigated unfamiliar airports, befriended the flight crew, and was welcomed to an exclusive and secluded section of a hotel. Our bedroom was exceptional, with a window wall which faced north, overlooking the Hawaiian ocean. In the dawn’s early light, the whales were breaching, even though it was late in the year. Then the orcas were everywhere, swarming together (which didn’t make any sense in Hawaii). It seemed that the scene was just for me, although I desperately wanted to share the wonder with my parents, who were right next door and likely still asleep. I did, however get to share it with my friend, and our combined appreciation for the scene brought me a joy so palpable that I recognized it in my physical being, even though I was asleep. The dream seemed to go on forever, and once again, when I awoke, I had to remind myself that it wasn’t something I had actually experienced in this physical reality, but in a completely different one.
I recounted my dream silently, enjoying the orange skies and shadowed outline of the whales. But what I couldn’t tell was this dream was supposed to tell me. I always asked for guidance before I fell asleep, even though I never truly thought I’d receive it. Then I realized something, I had stopped appreciating paradise because I knew how quickly it could be taken away. So rather than appreciating it more and embracing the moment, I constantly braced myself for the punishment which always came next. Punishment from my ex-husband, telling me what a waste I am, punishment from myself for my bad decisions, punishment from life which constantly reminded me that one little slice of happiness is always tempered by a sliver of my million times broken heart.