I woke up in a sweat again today although it's quite cold for Florida weather these last couple of days. Double blankie kind of nights.
I've had sort of horrific nightmares, battles and wars if,
you will, as this night.
It was twenty five years or more when I went past it again, and I jolted in surprise when I saw it was gone.
A house that held some of the horrific secrets of my childhood was no longer there.
These secrets had destroyed me.
They destroyed my ability to grow as I could have leaving me lost in a world of survival.
I no longer knew how to speak of dreams but instead lived well-worn nightmares.
As I got older, I knew something wasn't right but pushed it away.
Fear and shame were a climb too high to make, so I pretended to live well instead, hiding behind the needs of others.
If I couldn't be happy, I could make sure others were, and sometimes that would fill me a little for a while.
I believed it was the only way I could be.
I didn't know any other choice existed for me.
By the time I went past the house all those years later, I knew the power of my choices, had remembered what I had lost there and could only feel the sadness that is felt when you realise you spent decades lost to a world that no longer existed.
We all remember when we are ready.
And then we can leave our stories behind.
It is never too late to remember the dreams you once had, and choose those again or choose to dream new ones. I don't know that I believe in dreams much anymore as when I do they seem to evaporate as the day breaks and a new day begins again with one less dream than yesterday.
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