Do you ever wake up in the morning and realize that you dreamed you were much younger?
Sometimes I do that. And it’s a little unsettling. Because come morning I will stand in front of the mirror and see that I’m not that person, that young girl, anymore.
When outside the moon flowers are opening up to the silky black night, I am sometimes dreaming of being a girl again.
On Facebook I sometimes see people from my childhood, all grown up with families and grandchildren of their own. I peer at them and see little details that make them appear familiar again.
The shape of their eyes, their smile or the tilt of their head. It shakes out a passing memory of them, however fleeting.
It’s like walking back through the magic looking glass to another time and place. I have no need to contact them. Their role in my life was inconsequential. So why are they there in my dreams?
Would I want to go back and live that life again? No. It took many years for me to feel settled and have confidence in myself and my abilities. I wouldn’t want to go back to feeling so unsure of things again.
Just to be a young girl who merely wished to be someone else. Somewhere else. While many of my school mates stayed and lived their whole lives in a town I couldn’t wait to get out of.
I have to wonder if there is a reason why a person who had no bearing on my life and who I literally haven’t thought about in many years suddenly appears in a dream.
Is my brain merely sifting through my past and haphazardly plucking a cast of characters I’ve barely known willy-nilly?
No harm, no foul. Just a short trip back in time. When I occasionally dream of that young girl on the outside looking in.
Come morning as I stare into the mirror at the woman I am now, I know that no one can outrun time. Or put a cork in a bottle to pause it.
And really would you even want to?
It’s just a dream of another chapter in my life that is conjured up like magic while the moon flowers outside my window begin to take shape. They will open and close while I dream my dreams and then disappear when sunlight appears.
As the day stretches on, the shape of the puzzle pieces fall away. The dream grows distant in my memory. And then before I know it it’s gone altogether.
Back into that dark place where dreams go.
Just like moon flowers.