A little while ago, I had a dream in light and dark.
It scared me. I know it came to me to protect me, but I didn’t know what to do about it.
The dream itself was brief but clear.
There were two faces. The faces were round and light. The eyes were unmistakable darkness.
I knew these people. I once trusted these people to navigate me through everything.
For me to accept the dream at face value, rather than believe it to be a foreign and therefore terrifying intrusion into the life that I had once believed to be wholesome and true, I had to be willing to give up everything I’d ever known.
My past. As I now call it. And walk away from people who would take my leaving as an insult. People who wouldn’t understand. People who would judge me, looking for someone to blame when nobody was ‘fessing up as to what really brought us to this.
I’m an adult now, but I still get scared when I feel trapped in the middle. I still feel like that steel ball in the pinball machine whenever one of them is angry.
And I woke this morning in a space I believe I haven’t been to for a long time.
But there’s still an ego voice nattering at me. It’s not me. I’m protecting you. Every pain you’ve ever experienced was her fault and you know it. Not mine. I’m the good guy here.
Part of me wants to believe that I’m not an orphan. And that part of me says, “sure, I’d like some candy.”
It makes me feel shameful when I realize what that part of me has been doing. Sleeping on the stoop of a room I swore I’d never walk back into willingly.
I screamed and shouted that I wouldn’t go back there even if my legs were broken, if my arms and ankles were bound, not even if I were knocked out.
They laughed. He put his arms across his chest and mimicked me. She flicked her cigarette and made loud mmmhmmm noises with heavy sarcasm.
And there I wake, not from a slumber, but on the stoop of a place I took a vow to never go back to.
Who believes in me? Who has ever believed in me?