Dreams are as deep as the roots that grow underground—beneath the trees that reach towards the sky. Sometimes they are subtle. Whispers that fly by the ears, caught between the whisps of a gentle breeze. Most of the time, for me, they are as harsh as a brick wall tumbling towards the ground. Suddenly awaking the mind that dares to dream as hard as mine.
Dreams teach like some of the great philosophers before my time. They guide us towards meaning, sometimes towards redemption. Dreams are power when we let them be. They are light when the world before us has darkened. Dreams are greater than our being. Bigger than the life we lead.
When we choose not to dwell in the meaning of our dreams, we choose to ignore our deepest thoughts. Dreams become nightmares. Quietly keeping us from a full nights rest. Keeping our minds from breathing. Keeping us from our true selves.
Nightmares become our only way of dreaming. They teach us our greatest fears, over and over until they become too much—unbearable thoughts that slowly terrorize our minds. Dreams of fathers, big and small. Dreams of mothers, gentle and harsh. Dreams of a life less illuminated than the one we live. They all become smothered by rapid cycling minds, ultimately becoming disillusioned.
My dreams of my father become nightmares of abuse. Assaulting my brain as well as my body. Dreams of my mother become somber thoughts of me at her funeral. My dreams become intense thoughts of events from the past and of the future that has yet to come.
So what do we do when our mindset is thrown off balance? How do we sleep through the dark night of delusions and rapid cycles? I suppose we just breathe and try to sleep again tomorrow.