This has been a year of being disassembled and reassembled, of being purified and refined by burning fires, while craving escapes to cool seas. Each night I know who I am when I crawl in bed, but awake transformed by wild dream journeys that leave me mystified.
The dream I yearn for involves quietly walking a swirling curling silver labyrinth paved with rubies and amethysts, reaching the center and awakening with a sense of enlightenment. Or at least an inkling about my future. Or maybe a sticky note that says turn right
Instead my nights are full of haunting echoes of the past dancing with the future in scenes of directionless journeys and circular travels. I find myself in familiar places that have turned strange, on adventures sans map or supplies, wandering through streets and stores choosing and abandoning without predictability or rhythm. Each morning I awake with the sense that there was something important I was supposed to remember. But it all slips away into the mist even as I try to search for some profound soul level guidance.
Perhaps there is no message to decipher, no treasure to uncover in these nightly escapades, they are simply visions of my soul untangling from the past. Maybe my DNA is unraveling like an old tattered and well-loved fraying sweater, the colorful yarn simultaneously being knitted into something new and amazing. This year might actually be the labyrinth, leading my spirit from sorrow to joy, from fear to prosperity, and from emptiness to love, opening me to a future that is wild and untamed and waiting to be written.