the edges of myself

I remembered several of my dreams last night.  That rarely happens to me.  As I drove to work this morning I found myself going over them in my head.  This evening, there’s one that’s still there– the others having been relegated to my subconscious mind where they generally dwell.

The one that’s still with me was just a snippet– at what I believe was the end of the dream. I was carrying a backpack and my purse in a fantastical city, one that was clearly created in my mind.  I was walking to what I imagine was a bus stop– it was a destination which had little other reason to be a destination– and the backpack rolled off of my back, ahead of me, and onto the ground.  (A totally illogical and dream-like sort of incident.) There was someone at the bus stop– who seemed to be waiting for me.

I wasn’t particularly concerned, but as i quickened my pace to catch up to it and reach it another someone came out of seemingly nowhere and snatched it up and took off running away from me.  They ran towards what looked like another bus stop and then handed it off to yet another person who again, came out of nowhere.  At this point I realized my back pack was gone.  And the person who seemed to be waiting for me was no longer in the picture.

I am alone– my possession has been taken. I begin going through my purse, taking an inventory of everything.  All that I need is there.  Everything of value, I have kept.  Then I begin racking my brain trying to think of what was in the back pack.  I can’t come up with it.  I don’t have a clue what it is that I put in the back pack– but it seems to be completely superfluous.  I have lost nothing of value.  I have less to carry. I’m lighter.

As I drove to work this morning– reliving this dream in my mind, I smiled at the clear message my subconscious mind was bringing me.  I’m moving through a lot right now– shedding so many old structures and paradigms that simply don’t hold value for me any longer.  These things that are falling away, sometimes they can be hard to let go of. Sometimes I’ve held an idea of something for so long that the idea itself begins to seem a part of me. Sometimes I cling to them with an iron-fisted grip– and I don’t even know why. Comfort? Security? Safety? Familiarity?

What I need to continuously remind myself as I move through my process of letting go is that I have all that I need– and those ideas that I’m shedding, those heavy, burdensome confabulations, they are superfluous.  I am losing nothing of value.  (I am gaining a world of value.)  I have less to carry.  (And more expanse with which to carry it.) I’m lighter.  I’m brighter. And possessiveness is no longer weighing me down.