Last night I had a strange dream. I was younger. Just a teenager. I was walking. Headed down a winding dirt road.
I was deep in thought, about what I don’t know. I was staring at my feet as I put one in front of the other. What I saw before me was just a span of red dirt road that marked my path ahead.
So intent was I, that I realized I didn’t know how long I had been walking. I stopped and looked up. The scenery looked different. I turned around in a circle. Everything looked the same. Tall reeds of plumed grass blowing in the wind.
I felt sudden panic. I had no idea where I was, or which way to go to get back to wherever it was I had come from.
As I turned round and round, seeing the same tall stands of wheat-colored grass all around me, I woke up.
Funny how you can be deep in thought one moment, completely relaxed. And then transported to a state of fear. With just a glance up at the scenery.
I have felt lost for some time, I suppose. Out of place. Out of my element, my comfort zone.
What drove me forward was feeling that I’d gone too far to turn back.
Do you ever go too far to turn back?
Or is any time the right time? The moment of truth. When you succumb to the fear and let it lead you to the unknown.
As many poets have said, much better than I could; if you don’t walk into the shadows, you will never know where you can go. Or something to that effect.
Except for the past month or so. When I would jump up and get into morning mode before I’d really had a chance to shift from sleep to full wakefulness. When time swept by at an alarming rate.