Triskelion
Recurring dream:
I am somewhere in Tuscany, walking along a cobblestone street overlooking fishing boats. I am wearing a long skirt and I am carrying a basket of smoked fish. It is not hot, but it is sunny and beautiful, and everyone smiles and says ‘hello’ to me as I walk by. The women are friendly to me. Someone gives me a square of rough bread me and I give her a fish.
Recurring dream:
I am lying on white sheets on a feather mattress in a very clean and pretty room. The bed is dark wood and handcarved. A neighbor made it for us. My husband is a chemist. We have an iron stove in our bedroom. The room is very warm, but I feel cold. I am getting colder. I have blankets and pillows all around me and my husband is lying next to me in trousers and stocking feet. He is reading to me. He gets up momentarily to put more wood in the stove. He is smiling. I watch him as my soul leaves my body.
Recurring dream:
I see Brent wearing a navy-blue turtleneck sweater. The cable-knit kind a fisherman wears. He is sitting on the edge of a white sailboat. He is laughing and smiling and looking at me. His eyes are squinted in the way they do when he is genuinely happy or amused. My hair is slightly wet from the saltwater spray.
It’s true that every few months, or at least twice a year, I either lock up all my entries or go on “hiatus” from my blog, or whatever.
Right now, I have passworded all the entries I have on xoxoui. Some of you have the “generic” password, which has not changed, and a very limited few of you have the password to the more serious “restricted” entries.
I’m not sure what I am going to do at the moment. I don’t know if I am going to re-open those generic entries, or keep them closed, or what. I don’t know if I am going on hiatus.
I don’t see a closure to this site, and I honestly cannot see myself discontinuing keeping an online journal. And, I don’t see myself moving this blog. I’m tired of moving it around.
I have had an online journal in some form since May 1997. Yes, I’ve often said it is an outlet, but it is so much more than that.
No, I haven’t had the luckiest of lives.
No, I don’t have a degree.
No, I am not that particularly successful in anything I do.
No, I am not pretty.
No, I am not desirable.
But in the past few days, I have come to realize that a blog—my blog—is real proof that I lived.
I was alive.
I existed.
I was not invisible.
I have a mind.
My thoughts linger.
My dreams are endless.
In my blog, I am sharing my soul with you. Maybe there are people out there who don’t need to know about it. Maybe, in most of my entries, I am really writing to someone who should probably know these things because I cannot verbalize them or approach this person with my thoughts…and maybe this is just my way to get them out there.
I don’t know. It’s these things and more.
Right now, my emotions are very twisted. I don’t mean like in a psychotic way…but rather in a pretzel way. I’m confused and looking down that dark path that I have been fighting against.
Just when I have something so sweet, something else happens to keep me from being content.
From what I understand, I’m just supposed to “go with it” and stop questioning things.
I know this post is somewhat vague. Yes, something has happened to bring my thoughts and blog process to a trainwreck stop, but I’m not going to discuss it.
Right now, I need to unpretzel myself. Earlier this year, I was searching for that unpretzel solution. The more I search, the tighter the knots become.
Am I really the “Miser” card that keeps coming up in Melissa’s readings?
That ugly, old Maude-looking woman clinging to what she thinks is ideal?
It’s becoming more and more difficult to deal with things “day by day” and “punch by punch.” I am TRYING to not put too much into my hopes. I am TRYING to put my trust out there, blindly.
But I’ve pretty much lost any kind of faith I have. I am not dreaming well. I need to find my way, and I do not know where to begin……Again.
Or, maybe…I should just stop.
