Just a Poor Ghost

We choose our joys and sorrows long before we experience them.

–Khalil Gibran

It seems I’ve been in a bit of a writing rut again. Many, many dreams have come to me over the last few months, and yet I cannot find the words to do them justice or give them waking life. I suppose too, that there’s a certain theme that is running through my day to day right now. There are so many things I want to share, to say, especially to those I love, but the words die on my tongue before they are ever spoken. I’m getting bored with myself over it honestly.

I’ve been trying so hard to heal so many, myself included, and it seems that must go on for a while longer. That may be part of my block. But I keep on hoping for miracles and happier, sun-kissed days to come.

I do have a post in progress about an absolutely wild ride of a dream that will hopefully be out soon. But until then, another dream of time and space…

I sat on a dune, looking out over the blue ocean. The man by my side was an old friend, in ways. Someone I often dream about but have never met in the waking world, and yet I know him well. Tall and lanky, darker blond hair and gray eyes. Part of me thinks he is a subconscious representation of myself. He usually comes to me with something cryptic. And tonight is no different.

For a time, we were quiet. He would drag his hand through the sand and then raise it up, letting the grains drift between his fingers to catch the wind before they returned to the earth again. I hugged my knees into my chest and watched the waves crash.

“So, what is it this time?” I asked, finally breaking the silence, my gaze still fixed off shore.

“Honestly, I don’t know. I haven’t gotten this far before.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just… never made it this far. We usually have something else happen or bugger things up. That’s why we know the answers so often. But this time? We’ve not made it this far… so don’t mess up. I kinda like not knowing the answers. Flying blind. It’s refreshing.”

“I still don’t…” I began, only to be cut short.

“If you had to start everything over and get back to this moment, but you could leave yourself clues, would you?”

“I… as in, if I went back to being a baby and I had to do life over again? To find my way back to this very moment? I suppose so, yes. I would want to get back to this.”

“Okay so then you know what I mean.” He smiled and grabbed another handful of sand, again letting it fall from his fingertips back to the ground. Day turned to night, and stars were twinkling overhead in an infinitely black sky.

“Nope, not really. You always confuse me.”

“It’s a recursive. Always a loop. We come, we go, we come back, we go back. Over and over again, but we can make changes, here and there. We can make new choices, get a little further. And when we do, then we can leave clues for the next time through. But when the clues run out, then we know we haven’t been here before. Over and over and over again, til the end of time. Or until we get it right. Only then may we rest.”

“Uh… Right, gotcha.” Silence fell between us again for a time, the only sounds from the eternally breaking waves. The dawn was coming as I asked one last question. “Do you think you’ll ever find your rest?”

“God I hope so.”