Last night, a dream.
It wasn’t just any dream, but that lucid type of dream that somehow feels real yet your eyes open in the spot where you last closed them. It wasn’t just any dream, but the type of dream that left me shaken, stirred, yet completely at peace. It wasn’t just any dream, but a conversation between my heart and the greatest wound I had ever faced.
In this dream, I talked to my mother.
My mother had done horrible things to her son, taught him horrible lessons that would see many monuments of his life reduced to rubble. She had given him the gift of mistrust, of confounding fear that everyone in life was going to hurt him in the various ways they will, and those gifts would ruin so many wonderful moments and distort so many wonderful views along his path. So much pain. So much fear. So much to overcome.
I have long forgiven my mother for those things. After years of allowing proverbial and literal bloodfalls to pour from those open wounds, I came to the realization that she gave me those gifts but it was I who decided to hold onto them. I never did get to have a discussion with my mother about this in life. I never received an apology for the lies, for the pain, for the wounds inflicted on both my mind and my body while she breathed the air we shared. While many in my family continue the lie in denial of all that was, I was haunted by my mother’s ghost long before she died, and I still wince when those wounds are pressed, although the wincing is hardly noticeable by the world outside my own mind.
I don’t forsake that reaction. I face it and master it nearly every time I feel the triggers pulled. I just don’t feel the need to share those gifts with others any longer. I don’t care to write my story with a pen my mother gave me, on a book her husband held open for her, or with the invisible ink others in my family wish I would write it with. I wish to write my own story in a book held open with the hand of immeasurable self-love, with the scarlet ink of truth that cannot be denied, or blurred, because it is etched on parchment that readily accepts it, forgives it, and allows it to be with great honor.
I close my eyes each night with a meditation of remembrance. I remember the lesson, the journey of transformation. I hear the voices, and I tell them I love them too. I close my eyes knowing who I am, and honor the journey that has brought me to that fortunate space I wish all could see. Mostly, I remember who I am and say to the little boy, the young man, and my present heart “I love you.”
That has been my practice for years now. Last night was no different. As I dozed with the words “I love you” still echoing in my Being I could feel the familiar peace settle over my body and mind. I could hear a memory of the rapid flow of a nearby creek spilling from my ears. I felt the warmth of a Spring Colorado sun on my flesh, and the coolness of the northern breeze raising bumps on my skin. A memory of the clean mountain air filling my lungs as my legs turned on my bike followed by a desire to travel great distances in this way. My soul is alive, my body must continue on to meet its mission, my journey is nowhere near complete.
“Tommy…”
I heard her through the memory of the rushing creek.
“Huh?” My soul replied.
“I’m sorry.”
It seemed all sound surrendered to silence with those words. I could still feel all that was, but I could only hear the sound of her voice coming from all places in the landscaped scene around me.
“Mom?”
“Yeah. It’s me. And I’m sorry.”
“Well, you should be. You left and never said a word.”
“You have every right to be angry. I just hope you can forgive me so that you aren’t carrying that weight around with you. It’s not fair to you to be burdened with such a weight.”
“I’ve forgiven you, Mom. I’ve also forgiven myself for the weight I still carry. Perhaps in time I will be able to drop it all, but I no longer beat myself up for carrying it. I do my best, and when those leaves decide its time to fall from this tree, I won’t hold on to them.”
“I hope not. None of this was your fault. I can’t help the way things were. All I can say is that I always loved you, even when I could not show it. I always wanted what was best for you, even when I got in your way. I always wanted to be the best mother for you I could be, even though I failed. I just wasn’t strong enough to turn from my pain, my anguish, and my addictions.”
“I understand. Ending the patterns nearly killed me. I guess that battle can’t be waged by everyone.”
“True. I’ve seen what you went through. My soul has cried real tears for what I’ve done. I know, however, that you will do great things with what you’ve reclaimed from me. What I tried to steal from you…”
Her voice trailed off as if she was remembering. I sighed. She had hit the nail on the head. She had tried to steal everything from me – my identity, my story, my life, and my heart.
“Tommy,” she interrupted her silence.
“Yes?”
“I must tell you this. While I am not proud of what I’ve done, I can now see purpose in it. My pain was strong, very strong. But you needed it to be.”
“How so?”
“Look at your strong body. You know the value of overcoming resistance, how the harder the workout the stronger you become in the process of completing it. My pain challenged me and I was not strong enough to defeat it. I gave it to you, and you were strong enough to not only defeat it, but defeat the pain created in you during that process. My son, I am so proud of you. Death was the only way I could change. You’ve changed in life, with life, with so much more to go.”
“Yeah, I know Mom. I just wish it hadn’t been so hard, and that I hadn’t hurt others in the process of dealing with our pain.”
There it was. Our pain!
“I wish there was more in life that had brought us together than just pain. It overshadows those few, but important memories we could have shared.”
“Perhaps one day we can share them. When the time is right.”
“Oh, we will.”
I smiled, and closed my eyes.
“Mom, I don’t believe in ghosts.”
“Good, because I’m not a ghost. I’m not haunting you save the ability you give me to haunt you. I don’t reside ‘out there’. I live inside of you. When you pass you will realize that you live inside your own children and those you love. You will live in their actions, in their memories, in their trials and in their victories. You will be a part of every breath they take, every footprint they leave on the earth. You won’t be a ghost, you will be very real in the ripples you’ve sent with those little pebbles of you you’ve thrown out into the ether.”
“I really wish we could have had these types of talks years ago. Things would have been very different.”
“Exactly, but they weren’t meant to be different. All of those pebbles that you find, those stones you throw out into the ether, have a purpose. They aren’t there by accident. You’ve written about that before, you’ve seen that in your visions. Every moment in your life had and continues to have a purpose. It’s time you started realizing that purpose. It’s time you picked up those pebbles as well, and then toss them into the ether. Don’t hide from them. Don’t cover them. They have great value, and they need to fulfill their purpose.”
“How do I do that?”
“You will see. It’s time you and I write a book. It’s time we stop hiding in shame of what we have done and start lighting torches with that light. It is a light, my son, trust me on that.”
I thought it odd that the woman who had taught me so much about lying, about the abuse of trust, was now asking me to trust her.
“I know, it’s a crazy request,” she replied to my unspoken point. “But it’s important. Your forgiveness has exposed many things to you. It has brought your wisdom into the light. It has brought your strength to the forefront. It has shown you love, it has sung you songs of hope. It has brought me to you right now. So, you can either choose to use it, or not, and see what it brings you next.”
I knew in my entirety that she was right. I wondered where this woman was throughout my life.
“I am, what you feel right now, who I always was. Wise, loving, truthful…it’s who we all are when we rid ourselves of the layers others place on us. The layers we choose to keep swaddling ourselves in. We are all wise when we drop the veil of stupidity others place on us. We are all loving when we rid ourselves of the fear others gift us with. We are all truth when we drop the lies the shadows bring into our hearts. You know this, you’ve seen it. That is the first pebble you need to cast out there. It’s ripple will be felt far and wide.”
“I will. But how?”
“Well, first you need to wake up and process this. You need to be shaken. You need to quake with all your might. That will rid your tree of the weakest leaves, and allow those pebbles, those gems you’ve been holding on to, to fall to a space where you can pick them up and throw them. Then, watch what happens.”
“Ok. Mom?”
“Yes, Tommy,” she replied.
“Thank you. I can’t tell you what this means to me.”
“You don’t have to. I know. Remember, I am not ‘out there’. I am right inside you, so I know. Now, wake up!”
My eyes opened with a startle as the words “wake up” brought me out of my sleep. I looked around, half scared and half crying, shaken to my core. All I could hear as the quaking went on throughout me was “watch what falls. You will see….”
There will, I am sure, be more to come. For now, I’ll just watch what falls.