**I’ve been having a bit of a dry spell here on the blog, so today I’m taking an old post & revamping it. Hope you enjoy! What do you do when your writing well runs dry, or you don’t have the time to write?**
I dream of fighting back. I dream of being reckless and bold and talking back. I dream of not being told what to do. I dream of giving up the good girl.
I dream of the day when I don’t stumble or fumble or lose faith in myself, my beliefs. I dream that you have no power over me. I dream that I know the truth. I dream that I know what happened. I dream that it’s tangible and can’t be taken away from me.
I dream of eating fresh guacamole with blue corn chips all day long and a giant margarita to wash it down with. I dream of the extra meat on my bones, a slightly softer rounded belly, one that was once home to my daughters. I dream of a time when I can honor my body and its scars and curves instead of judging it every time I pass a mirror.
I dream of a glass of wine and a notebook, black ink all over the middle finger of my right hand. In the middle of the night, alone. Just me and silence and crumbs on a dirty plate in the kitchen sink.
I dream of you and me and soul mates. And matching games and finding pairs and starting over again and again. I dream that I’m someone else for a few minutes. I dream that time is a gift only I can grant myself.
I dream of slumber parties and Light As a Feather and telling secrets. I dream of a gaggle of girls and staying up all night whispering and playing truth or dare.
I dream of a place where I can say what I want about whatever I choose. I dream of a time when there is no censorship. I dream of letting kids be kids and not worrying so much all the damn time. I dream that it doesn’t matter what other people think. I dream that who we are is more important than where we live, what color our skin is, where (or if) we went to school, and what jobs we have. I dream that even the smartest people can be stupid.
I dream of my destiny. Of making a platform for myself. I stand on it; it’s built of old notebooks, my favorite novels, my best friends, memories, conversations, my family, love, strength, smiles, tears and laughter. Bits of my childhood self glued to the woman I am now.
I dream that I don’t have to know the exact destination in order to find it. I dream that I can trust myself to get there. I dream that I’m someone worth knowing. I dream that I’m someone worth loving. I dream that I’m someone you can take a chance on. I dream of winning. I dream of pennies in a fountain and long-lost wishes coming true.
I dream that you love me and see me. I dream that together we have unlimited potential.
I dream that we all make mistakes. I dream that we’re forgiven. And that forgiveness comes easily, but not too easily.
I dream that I have a soul full of ladybugs. I dream of the night standing in your backyard with sunflowers towering over me. I dream of a drunken sailor ripping one from its roots and time stood still as he hurled it over the fence, such beauty wasted.
I dream of a note written on folded paper that landed on my desk. I dream of a night in a treehouse with a little tv and a lot of hormones. I dream of too many screwdrivers and vomiting and sleeping with one foot on the floor. I dream the best dreams and wake up sad to find they’re not real.
I dream that I dreamed you. I dream of chubby baby legs with feet that can’t be squished into perfect pink baby loafers. I dream of pigtails and tiny teeth. I dream of your hands yanking my hair. I dream of your baby voice saying “Mommy,” and your face buried in my neck. I dream of you when you were inside of me, and even before you were actually there.
I dream that someday, all alone, I will stand atop a mountain I’ve climbed and I’ll be sweaty and dirty and exhausted but I will have done it.