It isn’t often then I enjoy being vulnerable. In fact, I don’t even think “enjoy” would be the right word, because to me, being vulnerable isn’t something I like doing anyway. It’s a scary place to be, vulnerability. Right now, I’m going to share something I dreamt of. This is basically what this post is about, so if you wish, you may click the X on your screen for this tab or window if hearing about someone’s dream is as interesting as watching a hairbrush.
Today, when I woke up, I heard voices coming from down the stairs. There are almost always voices downstairs, almost always muffled noises. But I knew that these weren’t sounds I was familiar with. These were people I did not know, and I was aware of that.
Like any other time when there are people you do not know at the house you live at, you are probably expected to meet them, even if it is just exchanging names and nothing else. I was still in bed when I heard them, so I got out of bed and started to change. Today, I didn’t even look in the mirror. I didn’t even shake my hair or rub the fairy dust out of my eyes, which is what I always do. I could have been someone else for all I knew. Then I thought, “It has only been minutes since my feet touched the floor and I’m already assuming whether I don’t or do know something”.
I was still changing when someone decided to open the door to my room. If I were more myself this morning, I would have been awfully flustered and take at least fifteen minutes to calm down inside my head. Today, I didn’t bat an eyelid.
The person at my door was most likely one of the people I did not know, because when I looked at her, I did not recognize her. She was maybe sixteen, for all I know she could have been my age and just had what people would call a “baby face”, like me. Her eyes were pale blue and her hair was platinum, and tied back into a ponytail. Her complexion was flushed and comparable to the shade of her sweater, which I would call crimson.
We looked straight at each other for what was only a second until she shut the door. As I said before, on a regular day, this would bother me to the point of bringing me to tears. Being walked in on whilst getting dressed is not one of those things you will ever get used to, no matter how many times it happens.
When I opened the back door to go outside, things didn’t look the way they did yesterday. I don’t mean that the influx of party decorations made things look different, I mean that the physical sense of the garden outside was different. All of a sudden where I was standing, there was a hill, which led to a bottom garden. We never had a bottom garden. How did it just appear? There were people down below under a white tent, and I didn’t see anyone I knew except for my mom.
Under the tents were tables and on the tables were picture frames with pictures. The pictures were of people I did not know, but these people were under the tent. I said before that it would be expected for me to at least introduce myself to these people, but I didn’t.
The picture frames on the tables were no longer being treated like pictures are supposed to be, for looking. Instead, they were being cut into pieces. These “pictures” were not what they had seemed to be.
That actually wasn’t the entire dream, but it was all I could put into words. Nothing else from the depths of my head could be translated into a Word Document. It’s very difficult for me to put emotions into words without them sounding crummy and pathetically…pathetic. When I woke up yesterday morning, I felt crummy, and I felt rather pathetic. Because once I woke up from that particular dream, waterworks started and kept going for a couple of minutes. I surrendered to them and just lay in bed, wet pillows, sniffles and the like. I do and I don’t know why this dream was that upsetting. Usually for me to end up in tears inside and outside the dream, it most likely is a terrifying situation. But thinking about it during the course of the day, I suppose waking up to a host of strangers and the only one you actually know is your mom, is scary. It’s unfamiliar territory. I seldom apply what happens in dreams to my every day life, because a little more than a week ago, I had a dream about BBC’s Merlin and I know for a fact that Merlin and Arthur do not exist in any form of my life unless I’m watching the TV show.
Over the span of the summer so far, I’ve met a lot of people. Some of them I might see again, and then others I’ll probably never come across. I’m probably overwhelmed, since it’s not a surprise to anyone that people, in general can throw me off quite a bit.
Needless to say, it is indeed 3:24 AM, and the bottom line is that dreams can be scary enough to give your heart a squeeze and make your eyes leak, and that’s okay.