mind to the rescue

When I woke up this morning I was dreaming.

I was at the top of a cliff on a stunning day.

Blue sky. A sea dancing with sunny diamonds.

And then the nose of one, and then a dozen beluga whales, broke the surface of the water and there were suddenly twenty of them leaping and soaring right in front of me.

Even the woman down the road – who was having a bit of an alcohol induced meltdown (of course) – turned and smiled when she saw what I pointing out to her.

(There were also seals. And a polar bear. But I won’t go into that or you’ll think I really have lost the plot.)

It was such a nice way to wake up.

 

I was seeing someone recently briefly (very briefly in the end) who claimed he never dreamed. So I probably should have known that it wouldn’t work out and saved another tiny piece of hope from being chipped away from that corner  of my heart that hopes someday someone amazing will come along. One day.

Personally I like to fill my life, my time, my mind…even when I’m sleeping. It’s just a natural setting. I’m always saying “I’m too busy” to people.

It gets a bit boring hearing it from me all the time like a slightly irritating broken record. I know some (usually when there’s kids taking up their entire waking and sleeping lives) think ‘Dawn, you don’t know what busy is. Enjoy this time. It’s yours: chill, have your space, enjoy being alone with no responsibilities’.

To a certain extent I do exactly that (in my own energetic way). But when you strip back from the band, seeing my (wonderful) friends, the running, the photography, the writing, the climbing, the fundraising for Project Riandu coming up in August, the cooking, the reading, the (borrowed) dog walking…all those things I brim fill my life with….it’s actually pretty empty.

I don’t really notice most of the time, when I’m well and have the energy for running from one thing to another. But occasionally when life triple trips me up with the heartbreak of a devastating family loss, food poisoning and a mobile phone faux-pas, then it suddenly becomes very apparent. Then, when all the stuff I stuff my life with, can no longer be done: it’s just me and not a lot else.

I feel it most when I wake up.

I don’t feel sorry for myself, not usually anyway (so please don’t). It’s just the way it is when your family are far away and your friends (who you’re proud to say also have that joie de vivre) have busy, mostly brilliant, stuffed-full lives too.

And ultimately, when all else fails  and as empty as things might seem, I have my mind.

It comes to the rescue with vivid colourful dreams of deep blue sparking seas and the joy of leaping beluga whales and reminds me of all the beauty in life I’m yet to see…all the things I’ve yet to stuff it with.