Last night, I had a dream that we arrived at a long dinner table to eat together. 

You tried to sit next to me, but I sent you to the end of the table, and made room nearest me for someone who loves me today. Now.

We are here to cut ties.

We are here to fully know the whole self.

We are here to make strong bonds with new love.

We are here, and so are you. Good luck.

Words etched in stone present themselves as we moved from all evidence of sand and waves. It looks much like a place I imagine from the Dark Tower series, but I would have to confer with my literary consultant husband as to which book (I suspect it is the second in the series, but K would know better). It doesn’t even matter—there’s grass and trees instead of sand and waves.

This place is different from the last.

It is not designed for aimless wandering and pondering. An underground, unseen power seems to silently rule over this land. There are paths: undefined, but written, like veins to a pulse. The trees seem to bend, granting a subtle course when things start to all look the same.

But we’re here, and we’re stronger together.

That fantasy of being more than we’ve ever been—it’s like she’s someone we’ve all met, but never realized who she was.

“We set out for structure,” someone says. “A place to house that long table.”

It’s not a bad idea.

“We don’t need the walls,” says another. “Face this place transparently.”

That resonates too.

There have been strong pulls, but equal, in several directions, and nothing feels certain.

We are here to cut ties.

We are here to fully know the whole self.

We are here to make strong bonds with new love.

We are here, and so are you. Good luck.

It doesn’t matter where we go or what we find here. The point is to be more than we’ve ever been, make the most of whatever is here, and share it with whoever passes our way. Whatever remains to be cut will be cut, and what remains to be restored will be restored.

Yes, perhaps we know this place. We’ve been here before, and that’s why we can practically read the lines defining the overgrown, sparsely-used paths written across the landscape. It is the reason our bodies feel pulled in certain directions, without much conscious reasoning. See that over there? Doesn’t it feel right? What if we found a way…

And while quite beautiful, the terrain does not seem so safe if you don’t know the correct paths to take. There’s all kinds of bullshit to get ensnared in, and it could cost a lot of energy to have to cut a way free.

“We take it slow, and we do it right this time.”

^{Friday, September 6th, 2024}

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