Dream on Saturday Night:
front right tooth breaks. I pull it out in slivers. It's gone, and I'm fine. I bite down, testing the strength of the rest of my teeth and they break, parts and tops of the shattering. The roots are fine but the rest of the teeth have broken now, too.
front right tooth breaks. I pull it out in slivers. It's gone, and I'm fine. I bite down, testing the strength of the rest of my teeth and they break, parts and tops of the shattering. The roots are fine but the rest of the teeth have broken now, too.
Dream on Sunday night:
laying down in field of pink poppies. snow begins to fall. it's peaceful, quiet, pure. It makes me happy. It falls all over the field. Around me in a circle about 10 feet wide the snow does not fall. I stand up. Where I laid a red rose, single, long stemmed, thorns on the bottom grows from the earth, not a bush. It is wilted. The water from the surrounding snow begins to pool down into the circle around the rose, and it grows. It sheds its wilted leaves and a new bloom begins.
Self love? At last? Something more? Snow is the blank slate, wiping clean the past. Forgetting the memories of days gone by while I was asleep, not yet awake.
laying down in field of pink poppies. snow begins to fall. it's peaceful, quiet, pure. It makes me happy. It falls all over the field. Around me in a circle about 10 feet wide the snow does not fall. I stand up. Where I laid a red rose, single, long stemmed, thorns on the bottom grows from the earth, not a bush. It is wilted. The water from the surrounding snow begins to pool down into the circle around the rose, and it grows. It sheds its wilted leaves and a new bloom begins.
Self love? At last? Something more? Snow is the blank slate, wiping clean the past. Forgetting the memories of days gone by while I was asleep, not yet awake.
Dream Tuesday night:
Walking down a path not unlike the one Maurice walks in Beauty and the Beast. There is a fork in the road.
Down one path I must pass under the shadow of a giant Oak tree. There is a black stallion, unbridled, no saddle, no reigns. He is strong. A thoroughbred. Tall. Mercurial. He will not be tamed. He requires bareback and nothing else. Trust and respect of this horse are required to ride and nothing else will do. But he is beyond the shadow of a giant oak tree.
Down one path I must pass under the shadow of a giant Oak tree. There is a black stallion, unbridled, no saddle, no reigns. He is strong. A thoroughbred. Tall. Mercurial. He will not be tamed. He requires bareback and nothing else. Trust and respect of this horse are required to ride and nothing else will do. But he is beyond the shadow of a giant oak tree.
The path to the left has a few horses scattered along it. Some close, some further down. There are reins. There are saddles on all of them. Some are grazing. Some are watching me. Some are simply trotting up and down the path beneath cherry trees. Cherry blossoms fall. Sunlight filters through many branches and the horses are not entirely in the shade at any point where they may stand. The left path is a well trodden path, a completely safe path.
I walk to the middle of the fork where I have nowhere else to walk but a path to the left or the path to the right.
I look to the right again. The stallion is looking down the road. But he stands with one eye still keeping me in vision. Watching. Waiting to see what I do. He doesn't know if I am a threat or not. The black stallion's path is under deep shadows for a time. The branches and leaves are dense. At the end of the path there is sunlight pouring in, though. The path continues after the trees into the sun up a hill from what I can see from so far away.
The path on the left looks pleasant. It looks easy. Happiness is assured beneath the cherry blossoms.
The path to the right is overgrown in some places. It will not be easy. But the view at the end, the sunlight looks like it's worth it. But first to reach the stallion to take me along this path I must first choose the path to the right. I must pass beneath the giant Oak tree first. Its branches are large, like the one at JP's grandparents house. The stallion does not know if it should trust me yet.
I have no sugar cubes. I have no carrots. I have only me. I'm dressed comfortable, dark jeans, a long sleeve shirt. It's deep purple. a v-neck. I am wearing riding boots. The stallion needs to feel safe with me on its back to carry me. It needs to know I won't go bloodthirsty and go for its throat to allow itself to carry me. Such is its nature. A thoroughbred is temperamental, very sensitive to changes in the temperament of its rider and won't allow one who is not calm, assured, respectful, trustworthy to ride its back.
I walk to the middle of the fork where I have nowhere else to walk but a path to the left or the path to the right.
I look to the right again. The stallion is looking down the road. But he stands with one eye still keeping me in vision. Watching. Waiting to see what I do. He doesn't know if I am a threat or not. The black stallion's path is under deep shadows for a time. The branches and leaves are dense. At the end of the path there is sunlight pouring in, though. The path continues after the trees into the sun up a hill from what I can see from so far away.
The path on the left looks pleasant. It looks easy. Happiness is assured beneath the cherry blossoms.
The path to the right is overgrown in some places. It will not be easy. But the view at the end, the sunlight looks like it's worth it. But first to reach the stallion to take me along this path I must first choose the path to the right. I must pass beneath the giant Oak tree first. Its branches are large, like the one at JP's grandparents house. The stallion does not know if it should trust me yet.
I have no sugar cubes. I have no carrots. I have only me. I'm dressed comfortable, dark jeans, a long sleeve shirt. It's deep purple. a v-neck. I am wearing riding boots. The stallion needs to feel safe with me on its back to carry me. It needs to know I won't go bloodthirsty and go for its throat to allow itself to carry me. Such is its nature. A thoroughbred is temperamental, very sensitive to changes in the temperament of its rider and won't allow one who is not calm, assured, respectful, trustworthy to ride its back.
I want to ride the stallion I want to go beneath the trees. I am afraid to cross under the shadow alone.
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