Three Dreams
“On this track, it starts to become clearer that this album is specifically about [loss] and the end of an era, but also the beginning of something mysterious and new.”
I’ve had the same recurring dream for a while now, but it never fails to catch me off guard. It begins on the porch of a large, old wooden house. I know you are inside, and it’s imperative that I find you. You’re lost somewhere in there and I need to guide you back outside, where it’s warm and safe.
I step through the doorframe and begin to search. Room after room, winding staircases, hallways that seem to grow narrower. It’s cold and dusty, but I feel you nearer and nearer. I’m afraid, acutely aware that I am alone in this dark, expansive space. Perhaps you are afraid too. The rooms begin to look the same and I am not sure that I know my way back to the front door anymore. But isn’t it better to be lost together than lost alone?
I’m almost there, I can feel it. You’re just through the next door, just one more room to search. As I push the door open I wake.
I’m always cold when the dream wrenches itself short, abruptly. Something within feels unsettled, unbalanced, and my heart hammers loudly and quickly in my chest. I used to feel apprehensive, convinced that if I’d only had time to open that one last door my dreams would be warmer and the ache felt deep inside would subside. I am less sure of that these days.
I’m climbing a long staircase, built on the face of a seaside bluff. I’m climbing up and away from a vaguely familiar beach, the air is dry and salty and the ocean is swirling, waves cycling beneath me. I am tired, but I see the last stair just ahead and push myself towards the top of the cliff. Chaparral shrubs, cacti, and coastal sage are abundant around me. Inexplicably, a large, lone eucalyptus tree grows among them. Beneath the tree, perfectly still under its branches, sits a man. I know that I do not know him, but he has the face of a friend.
“May I sit with you?” I ask. It would be nice to rest in the shade a moment before carrying on.
He nods, and I remove the large pack from my back. It swings down off my shoulders, landing solidly on the ground with a deep thud.
“That looks heavy,” he remarks.
I shrug. “I’ve carried it up all those stairs, it’s important.”
The man doesn’t respond to this, but seems to ponder it. The leaves of the tree rustle and the cool scent of eucalyptus is intoxicating.
“I think I’m lost,” I admit. “I don’t know where I’m going.”
He laughs. “No one here knows, but that doesn’t mean you’re lost. You walked up those stairs, but the whole way all you did was move forward. Isn’t that where you’re going? Forwards?”
I look up ahead. There are hills rolling towards the horizon. They are covered in soft green grass, a patchwork of greens, yellows and browns, shrubby trees sprouting plentifully along the sloping hillsides. It’s breathtaking, but I can still hear the waves moving steadily behind us.
“What if I want to go back? Maybe I’d like to stay on the beach a little longer.”
“You can’t go back there,” he says, gently. “Take a look.”
I walk back to the edge of the cliff. The tide has come in and the waves crash against the cliffside. The bottom level of the staircase is completely submerged and the beach is gone. There is nowhere to go anymore.
Back beneath the eucalyptus tree, we sit together in a thick silence. An indescribable ache builds in my chest. I cannot turn back now.
“The hills wouldn’t be so hard to climb if you weren’t carrying that heavy pack,” the man says. “Do you even know what’s inside?”
I untie the drawstrings and open the bag. Inside, it is stuffed nearly to the brim. Soft, frosted sea glass, green, brown, and blue. Opalescent, pearly, iridescent shells. Perfectly round and smooth gray stones. Every piece is beautiful, each one carries a distinct moment. I want to cradle them in my hands, revel in their warmth. They emanate the soft, safe sensation of being cradled myself.
“If I can’t go back, shouldn’t I at least carry these along with me? I want to remember everything,” I insist.
“You’ll never forget. But it’s just too heavy to bring it all with you for the rest of your journey. You’ll struggle, you’ll lose your footing, and then you may become stuck.”
The man stands, the time has come for him to leave the shade. The sun still hangs high in the sky, its dazzling radiance unrelenting. “You can stay here awhile if you need time, but don’t linger too long. Mourn if you need, but remember nothing that matters will ever really be gone. You don’t need to hold on to something to know what it means to you.” He begins to walk away, forwards, towards the hills.
He stops and turns to smile at me and all at once I know his face. “If you think the sea glass is beautiful, I wonder what you’ll think of the wildflowers. You’ve yet to see every piece of beauty.” Then he is gone, fading into a smudge against the horizon.
I sit a moment longer, holding the bittersweet feeling of warmth in my heart, then I rise to my feet and walk back to the bluff. I tip the bag over the edge. Shells, glass, stones, sand tumbling out, pieces clattering against one another as they plummet towards the crashing waves. Dust returns to dust, sand returns to sand, ocean returns to ocean. Forwards it is.
I am on the porch again, my hand turning the doorknob. Something is calling this time from behind me - some music in the trees, sunlight streaming just beyond the precipice of the porch. What lies there?
I linger a moment in the doorway- I know that I will not step foot into this house again.
Radiant noise. Brilliant light. These things await, if only I choose to leave this place. I shut the door firmly, then turn and walk off the porch and away from the crumbling house, into the unknown.
It’s calling out to me. The thought of it dances in my head constantly, through waking and dreaming alike. Perhaps I should be frightened, but it’s too late. Something wonderfully new has awoken within and it takes everything for it to not spill out of me as my cup overflows. If I think too hard about it, I begin to weep tears of joy while walking down the street in a new city, around the table with friends, listening to a song I haven’t heard in years, dancing together under purple lights, scribbling in my journal late into the night, in conversation with my family. It’s astonishing- I have never been moved to tears by happiness before.
I don’t quite know what it is, but the glimpses I’ve caught are enough to sway me. Even if I wanted to stop the motion, I wouldn’t know how anymore. There is no ending, only the beginning of something mysterious and new. Forwards it is.