Dreaming is a strange thing. It gives us a brief glimpse into who we are, without the filters of who we think we are. Direct access into all we've been and aspire to be. It may speak in code, and it may not always be easily understood, but its truths are inexorable, terrifying, and comforting all at the same time. I don't remember many of my dreams these days, but this one tore through the walls of consciousness like a fire through brush, devouring and illuminating all at the same time.
In dreams, a person can be more than one person, and is almost always a symbol of part of ourselves. That was this. I am once again reminded of all the people who have come through my life, devouring and illuminating like the fire of dreams themselves. In this sacred transaction, we become a part of each other, unaware on a daily basis the amaranthine imprint we leave etched on the fragile surface of each other's souls.
It starts naively with an innocent greeting, a handshake, a compliment. One touch from a stranger, and the sticky threads of our beings collide, creating that enigmatic link between spirits, shrouded from even our own eyes. A secret so inviolate, it must even be kept from ourselves. Even as we walk away, these ethereal strands bind us stronger than gravity, and more reliably than the rising of the sun. With each passing, the marks on our soul worn deeper, like a rushing river against a helpless mountain.
Thus when I look back over the pages of life, and I examine those marks, those cryptic etchings of all the people i've known, I find they are the building blocks of who I am. The good and the bad, the repugnant and the sublime. They are my fears, hopes, and dreams. They are my weaknesses and my strengths. We are all more a part of each other than we dare recognize, comforted by the illusion of individuality and isolation. These moments that we share with each other are precious, ephemeral, and transient, but what is left behind is eternal. Person to person, we are all fragile immortals, living out infinity within each other.
As I look in at all the faces in my dreams, pressed up against the glass walls of my subconscious, I miss many of them. A chasm where their presence used to fill my life, and these etchings read true. Then, in a moment of understanding I realize, that they will never be far, forever engraved into my being, mixing the heart into a melancholy-joy sundae with all the bittersweet toppings that come with it. The next time I shake hands or greet a stranger, maybe I'll actually think about it. Maybe I'll remember that we create each other, every waking day.
© Daelin 2005-2007. All rights reserved.