Mind’s Eye.


Three days in a row last week, I woke up experiencing something I had never felt before – night sweats from such bad dreams that I jumped awake, my v-neck drenched and my covers strewn on the floor.  To begin, I am never hot; I sit here now on my couch with the heat hissing, a log on the fire, and three layers of fleece on my skin just to keep out the March’s crisp spring California air.  I am my mother’s daughter.

But steeped in perspiration, I remembered my dream immediately: cops arrived at my door to arrest me for a murder I did not commit, dragging me away from my screaming brother, my heart terrified because there would be no trial. I woke, my chest pounding and arms thrashing against the imaginary officers.  As I told my therapist this, she said, “Sounds like in your life right now you are being accused of something that you didn’t do, and you’re not getting a trial.”  Um yeah, nailed it.

These past few months have been about reinvention, and it hasn’t been a major task, simply because I know exactly who I am – and that I’ve been here before.  This time, shockingly enough, the world has not come to an end, but in fact I’ve never been busier – and this weekend as I stood 9000 feet above sea level and looked down at the terrifyingly massive icy slope before me, I realized how far I’ve come in this vastness and what I’ve learned.  This time I didn’t need to be picked up off the kitchen floor.  Instead, I learned to ski.

A really good book I’m reading unknowingly gave advice: “To hold my best idea of my mind’s eye and walk toward her.” Because, not only do I recognize her fully, but I know that she’s going to be an unconditional wife, an incredible mother, an unfailing friend, and the most steadfastly honest companion for the remainder of her days. And a really good skier.


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