I’m here, again. Unsure as to why.
The barest hint of light surrounds me, grainy and not quite real yet.
The world is quiet, though I can already feel the air outside, pregnant with the anticipation of bird chatter just waiting to sound.
Disoriented and gripped by the loving embrace of dreamscape, I ricochet my way down the hallway, finding purchase on every surface, like I do most days, as I feel my way to the bathroom and back.
Desperate for more sleep, I hide under the warm and weighted covers, the very ones holding the promise of a place I long to return to. The place where nothing is my responsibility, where there is no healing or providing; only the very fractals of me, participating in something my simple mind can’t always comprehend.
“Just a little longer,” I silently ask of the morning.
Alone in my bed, a rare gift these days. Each deep-seated sigh clears more cobwebs from my eyes. Every yawn and noise that leaves my throat is a ritual of letting go: a gentle processing of what I remember, of what I experienced and learnt in that other worldly place.
The light, a little more solid now, shows me shapes on the walls. It will be time soon.
The soft chorus of a James Bay song repeats in my mind, providing my body with a rhythm it can grab hold of. My toes curl inwards, and my arms reach up high as my back arches to the roll of my hips: a slow and magnificent integration of all the pieces finding their homes within me once more.
“Breakfast time Mummy,” my children declare, bounding down the same hallway I traversed not so long ago.
My lips respond in a smile that feels like a full breath, a solitary moment of pure perfection frozen in time. This smile tells me I’ve found my way into my heart, that I am to begin my day on solid footing.
It’s right here that I know I have wondrously navigated another transition from dreamscape to reality, with the knowledge of who I am in tact.
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