Meditating thoughts

My eyes are hollow. My throat is calm. My legs are draped over the ground and I am sinking deep into my mat. Meditation is coming to the end, and I don’t want to open my eyes. The weight from my life is dripping beneath me. My worries are sinking, sinking, sinking. I could stay here forever–I wish. To me, the end of meditation is the worst. I have to muster all that I can to bring my energy back into my body, and try to hold the relaxation I just obtained for the rest of the day. It’s a daunting task, but I bring the drippings back into me, and wait for the last possible moment to open my eyes. As soon as I do, I know I’ll be back–back to the real world.

This is the world where I have responsibilities. I have money issues, relationship issues, school issues…I don’t want to open my eyes yet. I want to stay in the place I just created for MYSELF. But finally, I have to come back.

It feels like a rubber band slingshots me back into my body, and I open my eyes.

Namaste.

A dream of sitting.

I am an intense dreamer. I mean it. My dreams at night sometimes are so vivid, it feels like another life is being lived inside my head. Sometimes I wake up and can’t quite remember my dreams, but I have a feeling that some life abruptly ceased to exist as soon as I woke up. Dreams are a mystery to me, and I love that I am able to remember a lot of them. Often I have reoccurring dreams. Sometimes they even pick up from a past dream. Crazy. It can feel like I never left, and I remember things I didn’t know I knew or remembered.

A couple of nights ago I dreamt that I was marrying into royalty. The face of who I was marrying is insignificant, and I can’t remember who it was–my dream focused on something else.

The one thing that stuck out was the weight of the responsibility I was about to take on. I was going to be Queen–and I didn’t want to be. During the dream, I was sitting next to somebody–my confidant perhaps–looking out at some scenic view…water possibly. I was deeply thinking, and worried about my future as queen. I said something to the effect, “do you ever feel that what we are looking at today is going to be different tomorrow? It may look the same, but in every other way it will be different.”  I remember feeling so powerless. So sad. And scared. I didn’t question my capabilities of being queen, but rather how I could live a life that wasn’t mine. 

 I sat there in my dream and thought. It’s a strange feeling to be aware of yourself thinking in a dream–like Inception. Usually dreams just happen, and you have no control.  But this night, my dream was at a standstill. I was watching myself think–just think. It was as if I was looking deep into my mind trying to find some answer. This dream was the closest I have come in contact with my subconscious, i think. I couldn’t see it or understand it. But I was looking toward it. Perplexed, worried, and in awe, I oddly felt peaceful. I looked off into the distance, saw the edge of a vague truth, and came to terms with the fact that I may never understand the workings of my mind.

Today the dream itself is foggy. But the feeling I had in my dream is palpable. That’s the beauty of dreams. They force you to feel things you can’t seem to feel in reality. These feelings are often things you wouldn’t expect. Dreams are odd in that way–our vast minds stir up madness in order to find clarity.