Dream within a Dream

The title of this blog comes from a poem by Edgar Allen Poe, which asks “is all that we see or seem but a dream with in a dream?”

From the exploration of the unseen table, I fell down the rabbit whole of my wonderland. Where grief and anger twist and spin as silk lengths of fabric being spun by an aerial dancer.

This morning, it feels like things are falling down around me, breaking around me. Anger and grief present though not paralysingly like Friday, or maddening like Saturday, or confusing like Sunday. Yesterday I went to the grocery store with my two children and felt like I accomplished something. When carrying the bags into my house some bags ripped and a glass fell shattering on the ground and my kids were crying and yelling at me and demanding from me. Still, I made dinner, and sorted the rubbish and took out the bins for the garbage men in the morning. I began to wash the mounting dishes that collected from Friday's paralysis. I spoke to a friend, and in the conversation I was more myself. So for these small things I give myself praise. To have entered the rabbit whole of my darkest dread and found the ability to function. To still be alive feels like I have conquered Hades himself. Though, like in the story of Orpheus, I have not yet reach the topside and the urge to look back scratches beneath the surface of my skin. This may sound strange or illogical and it's not logical. It's emotional, it's physical, it's entirely pre-verbal. 

I still find myself wanting to distract and pull away from the abyss of pain, to cover it up again... and some greater part of me is not allowing this. The falseness is soon itched away by the threat to recover my body in hives or it is smashed away, by a falling holiday decoration or small external reminders to just stay present with these feelings. Contrary to positive thoughts create a positive reality, it seems by staying honest with myself and staying present with these long buried pain emotions and the past thoughts and patterns, I have the experience inside and the external things aren't needed.

Further, I thought I needed someone to go into the darkness with me or I'd get lost and die. Instead, alone I found myself there open in the deep pain that needed to come out and be acknowledged. I was able to feel it, experience it again and hold myself lovingly.

I have ventured into the darkness of my first heartbreak, which for me happen in the womb. Tied up with it was my second heartbreak and I have a niggling feeling my third heartbreak all which happened at a very young age. I have endured holding this pain inside me completely unaware it was there. Now I am typing about it in a relatively sane way and at very least able to string sentences together, which to be honest was a challenge a couple days ago. 

My hope is that I read back on this blog a year from now and appreciate how happy I am and just how far I've come with this body, in this life.

Lastly I'd like to share a dream with you that I had last night:

The Dream:

I was at the party of this famous spiritual, well renowned, amazing artist. At a point in the party he invited everyone to the hall to see his latest exhibition inspired by many in attendance. Most everyone rushed to the door and out into the hall. I could hear mummers and oo's and laughter. I stayed on the couch, I knew there was nothing about me out there, and there were so many people and I didn't really know any one or think anyone really liked me, or wanted me there. So I sat on the couch with my drink, in my pretty dress alone. The artist came in the room looking for something. He saw me and smiled, and walked straight over to me.

“Ah, there you are, darling.” He said and sat down next to me taking my free hand. “I've been looking for you, why are you not out in the hall with everyone else?” He asked.

“I thought I'd look after everyone else was done, there are so many people out there, it's very crowded.” I replied.

He looked at me and a warm smile spread across his face. “Come I want to show you something.” He took the glass from my hand and placed it on the table. He stood up and pulled me to my feet, wrapping my arm inside his arm and holding my arm tightly, he walked me into the hall.

There were paintings and sculptures and darkness and colour, it was almost too much to take in. People were entranced with the various pieces of art.

“This is my portrait collection, in this exhibition.” He announced.

I looked up and saw these pieces of art, people's faces delicately sculpted onto white eggshell coloured stone, painted and set into paper lined wood, where the body and background were drawn and water coloured. Then he stopped walked and turned

“I had never met you, see, so I didn't know how to draw you. You kept coming into my mind, but I had never met you. I've heard so much about you and I am so looking forward to seeing you in your process, how you work is intriguing and beautiful and I do look forward to see you more. So this is what came out about you.”

I looked up and saw this beautiful pearl white, gold swirled cream egg, about a foot long, set in black iridescent purple velvet within a green, spiral vine, flowered box. Below it said:

Egg of Being

Avi Esther

The card was hand written in black ink, on a cream coloured card. I stood there in shock, tears welled in my eyes. There was a piece here I inspired, and my name was in the title. I didn't even know this man, yet some how he knew and loved me.

“I have a place, here.” I said to him almost questioningly. “How?” I asked.

“I've heard so much about you,” He said “There's quite a buzz around these part, we're all interested in what you're doing, how you're doing it. And look, there's more.” He said spinning me and taking a step forward down the hall.

“ After I finished that piece, inspired by you, it was so beautiful I had to make more.” As I looked there was a whole row of eggs, beautiful iridescent multicoloured stone eggs, each unique and patterned in the most extraordinary fractal way.

“They are beautiful! How did you make the pattern on them?” I asked.

As he explained his process to me, it settled in that some how I had inspired not just a piece of art, but a whole collection. Having never met this man, what I was doing in my life, how I am being inspired such beauty. Such visual and craft genius. I felt touched, humbled and confused. Little me, who's always felt with out a place of belonging, felt included. Felt important, just for being me. Standing in my dream, in a hall of creations.