From Dreams to Darkness

 

Dream PNGs by Vecteezy

Dear Grandma,

You always knew that I was a quiet child.

You always knew I was a creative child.

I was in my head a lot. Gathering information. Gathering inspiration. You probably thought it was primarily from books.

Yet, I've always been an avid dreamer. A vivid dreamer. I always saw things in color, never in black and white.

Don't care what others may say or surmise.

I know what I know.

Every once in a blue moon, I would have recurring dreams. In this sense, dreams is putting it loosely. Because some felt terrifying (like never being able to stop falling) while others felt confusing.

The recurring dream that left me most balled was the one seeing a casket or the lowering of a casket into the ground. I would never think much of it until sometime later when it was announce that someone I'd been thinking about or talked about recently, had passed on.

I know you are not a big believer in anything remotely related to psychic phenomena. I will say that the frequency in which the dream occurred would be difficult to dismiss as mere coincidence.

After I was finally able to see you and wish you a happy birthday in December, that dream started returning. It became more frequent. The dream was different because there was a black veil/curtain shielding the scene, and initially, I didn't know why.

When I got the call, I figured it out.

That's when I knew your time was close.

Once you were lowered into the ground, one other event happened too. I, a person who has had dreams way more often than not, closed my eyes only to experience the dark.

Initially, I welcomed this.

It was part of everything crashing down, I surmised.

I haven't been able to dream since then.

It's as if a dense fog has set in my mind.

There are moments if I question if I want to start the day. I take a few seconds contemplating movement.

I know, writing this down, the non-dreaming may be a small thing. Since I am a person accustomed to dreaming (recurring or not) on a nightly basis, it makes me feel disconnected. As if something is not right.

Now, the darkness I once welcomed, I feel consumed by.

Now, I'm looking for light to find my way.

Grandma, I know you don't possess the answer, but I feel like an observer in my own life. 

As if I'm looking at a version of myself interacting with others.

As if I took a break and let a variant take its place.

Yet I'm not sure if this is exactly where I need to be (as my therapist would say) ... discombobulated and empty.

Newness does not give me an inkling of spark at this juncture. I cling to the familiar with the Jaws of Life, even if that familiar doesn't move me.

Should I move out of this limbo? Or is this limbo where I need to be?

Or deciding whether "being apathetic is best" is part of the problem?

What does one do when being uplifting seems to be too much of a lift ... to the point where I just want to sit it down and not even deal with it?

I am at this crossroads. I want to fight, yet the little fight I do have I want to preserve.

Perhaps it'll get figured out someday.

Just not today.