As I awoke this morning to the dull light beginning to stream through the window above our headboard, I could still hear the voices from the world I had just left. “We can always move the kitchen over here to mimic the layout you preferred in the first model,” the builder was saying to me as my eyes began to focus on the details of the ceiling above our bed. Dreaming. I was dreaming again. I took a moment to notice if I could sense Sean lying beside me and sure enough, I heard a gentle groan accompanied by a stretch which clearly indicated I was back to reality and I had spent another night, my third in a row, heavily dreaming. I closed my eyes again thinking to myself, “but which one did I choose” and “did they like my choice or did this strike another war with my new housemates.” Eyes shut I furrowed through my brows, “why was I bringing housemates to the land with me. Where the hell was Sean?” A stir to the left of me brought me back again, “I gotta get up. I have a meeting at 8:30.” “Coffee . . . “, the only words I could mumble at this moment that I assumed no matter what world I was in would be the most appropriate next step for me.

I laid there for another moment trying to decide which realm to continue in but I knew it was too late. The images of the beautiful western land with its green rolling slope and Colorado Rocky Mountains in the background was beginning to fade. Curious, our land is in Lyman, NH not Colorado but in my dream I was clearly building a permaculture homestead out west; the trees and landscape were not reminiscent of the east coast. I swung my legs out of bed, sitting up to put on my pajamas pants and slippers, bracing myself with my arms as my head spun as if I were drunk. That feeling intensified as I stood up and I gripped the handrailing with a little more purpose this morning as I carefully walked down the stairs.

As I sit here sipping my coffee as the sun brightens the remains of the winter’s snow spotted across the yard, I try to remember more of the dream. I’ve been paying attention to my dreams, when I do have them, as dreams are the gateway to our subconscious mind. If you pay attention to them, you may find some common threads or messages that are stored in your subconscious so in some ways, I’m thrilled to have woken up for the third time in a row with vivid dreams. A part of me really wanted to go back to sleep and stay in that world. As I drink coffee in this world, my mind begins to devise a mental to-do-list for my Wednesday, making space for a walk on the land today as I notice its going to be warm and sunny, and maybe a walk on the land would be great after last night’s dream about building and setting up on the land . . . . . . in Colorado? So I’m trying to sit in the transition, where the dream felt like it really happened and yet I know I’m here in my rocking chair preparing my body and mind for the day.

Sometimes lingering in the transition space between dream and reality can be difficult, like it was for me Monday morning as I had brought situations into my dreams that I really am tired of dreaming about, the shadow sides of myself that tend to appear in my dreams where I wish my physical self would have a muscle spasm or a cough to snap me back to reality. Those are the worst; I can never seem to come out of them early enough. I know I’m not meant to. I’m meant to let my subconscious percolate those shadows to the surface but its hard for me to stay in the transition state when I awake. I either want to judge myself for spending any time, awake or asleep, turning my mind over such things or I want to move quickly into my day, trying to forget I was dreaming about it again. Today is different for me. I’m not attaching to the dream nor attaching to the day. I’m just sitting in a slight trance patiently awaiting for the day to unfold, enjoying some of the memories of the dream I can still feel and enjoying the sun rising to another great spring day. Perhaps next time I will try to stay in the transition phase between dream and reality when a nightmare or darker dream cast a shadow on my pillowcase and see if I can remain detached yet fully present.

Excuse me while I stretch . . . . . . . sigh . . maybe a second cup of coffee this morning.

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