Day 8- Dream Catcher

My dreams are violent, morbid and often reoccurring. Rarely do I have a dream of sunshine and puppies, celebrations and successes.

A friend shot in the neck through a screen door.

My mom ran over by a train.

My two youngest children have gone missing.

Panic stricken, anxiety-ridden dreams that have me out of breath, crying in my sleep, crying when I wake. What a mess.

I suppose I could have lied and said that my dreams are infinite in their glitter and unicorns. But I’m just not a very good liar.

My dreams are a constant reminder of how my anxiety and depression seep into the recesses of my brain.

Even when it feels as though I am conquering it all, my dreams are there to remind me how fucked up my sub-conscience remains. Damn it, I try so hard. You know, think good thoughts, think good thoughts.

I do. I swear it. How can these dreams be when my soul is happy, my spirit is grateful? I don’t want to catch these dreams. I want to send them straight back, like bats out of hell, to where they came from and shout that I won’t stand for the infiltration.

I won’t stand for trying and seeking goodness, and wanting to BE goodness only to have to surrender unwillingly in the night.




How is it that I imagined I would have time to blog? I mean, I really thought this would be the best way to make sure I am writing my thoughts down daily pretty much.


Not daily.

But damn near.

I have been plotting a blog post dedicated to Jill Scott and how her new album is out…I  think about writing about how my husband and I had our biggest blow out of the four years we have been together. I think about writing all the time.

Letting people go.

Poetry. I am really great at writing poetry that should be spoken aloud with lots of arm waving and eye brow arching.

Leaving. Blowing this joint. Gettin’ the hell outta dodge.

My children. Their safety. My ever growing anxiety.

School. My career. My goals. (See above: Leaving. Blowing this joint. Gettin’ the hell outta dodge.)

Music. Always, always music.

I’ve been watching Transparent. It’s incredibly human. I appreciate that.

I should blog about how I thought I would have time to write, which would in turn create this momentous release for me and yet, I just can’t find…