to dream

This is one of those nights when I approach my bed with the odd sensation that I'm not quite sure who I am. These type of nights have been much more frequent of recent weeks and months. The refrain of Brandon Heath's excellent song "I'm not who I was" has a habit of bouncing around in my head as I approach journal and sleep, but sleep too often evades, and the journal seems to only grasp at things it used to capture. This time of formation, this time between the times, seems to be beyond words, even beyond understanding at some level. One must simply accept - enjoy - anticipate.

Then there are the dreams. . . the day dreams, conjuring up scenes and future days that become increasingly sure even as the continue to elude the proverbial pin. . . the night dreams, in which all of my confusion over present and past "lives" collides and explodes into innumerable disturbing, frightening and overwhelming colours, and I wake in the morning vaguely wondering if I really want to walk the path on which I find my feet placed.

The thing is, I can turn around and trace the steps of my life, steps that felt erratic, unnatural, even shocking; I can see how these steps have brought me to this path. I can see why I made each choice, and I cannot question my motives, my reason, my faith. Logically then, I am where I am meant to be. Never mind that I would never have chosen to be here . . . or would I?

As they say, the impossible becomes the possible, the possible becomes the plausible, yet there are walls still, obstacles still stand, difficulties must yet be overcome. But somehow, in my heart, I feel as if the obstacles are only there to be knocked down. For the first time in so many years, perhaps in my life, I walk into the future, unsure, surrounded by question marks, unknowns and difficulties, yet I am confident the questions will be answered, the problems will be solved, the hurdles will be passed, and I will reach the goal.

It is a beautiful thing to dream. It is a difficult thing to dream. It is a painful thing to dream. But perhaps to dream is to live. To live in glorious, marvelous technicolor, surrounded, overwhelmed and drowning in impossible beauty that skewers and slays the soul even as it brings new life, fresh perspective, deeper joy. To dream is to have faith, to cultivate hope, to allow yourself to love. To allow the Three-in-One to change, challenge, grow, redeem and form you more in the divine image.

Actually, it's a beautiful thing. I'm even grateful for the pain.