It's Time

I had a dream the other night that shifted a lot of energy for me. Not in a welcome way at all, at least not at first, but it seems to be helping more over time. And it absolutely required the vast empty spaces of the wild and epic road trip (more about that later) in order to manifest. 

The light was very bright—really, Santa Fe autumnal afternoon light. A warm room, just flooded with light, and with almost everything in the room white also. She and I are sitting quite close on a blue sofa, and the piercing detail of her wearing exactly what she was wearing the first time we spent time together stands out. We're facing forward, holding hands. It's very sweet and innocent. It has a very heavy, thrumming and ritual energy to it. 

A light, gentle voice chimed from the air, the light: "It's time."

No, I thought. I don't want to say goodbye. I don't want it to be time. 

But she looked at me and said, "I know, but it's time."

I said, "I don't want to say goodbye."

She had a warm, glinting, diamond kind of light in her eyes. Tear moistened. 

She simply repeated, "It's time." Kindly, gently. 

And we drew our hands apart, and sat another second next to each other. 

"I don't want to say goodbye," I said again. I felt perhaps nine years old. She also seemed very young. The whole situation was sweet and gentle, childlike and innocent. She nodded. 

The voice rang out of the air again- "It's time."

I thought to myself, why, why is it time. I don't understand. I don't understand. I don't want to say goodbye. 

But she drew herself up, and off she walked, out of the space we were in. I sat breathing heavily on the sofa. The light was bright. There was a kind, shimmering, but also sharp and sword-like energy. 

"I don't want to say goodbye," I said out loud, to nothing. And I woke up with a start, tearful in my tent. 

What stays with me especially is that soft, dry, decisive, yet almost lingering moment when we drew our hands apart- a slight swishing sound of skin on skin. And the moment after when we still sat side by side, breathing, still waiting.  

I've integrated enough of the dream to know that the main reason why letting go has been so incredibly difficult for me is that I simply have not wanted to. It became very clear to me that if I had wanted to, I would have by now. Or at least I would have to a greater degree. 

I think the dream is something deep in me finally accepting it. Finally able to sit with it, against my will, against my hopes. Finally able to draw that hand away, and have there be that space. The dream definitely told me that I had been faking letting go, and yet still was hoping, was holding that hand. But my heart knows, thanks to the dream, there's nothing I can do about it but accept the way things are. 

I am amazed that I have been so stubborn. That I have not wanted to hear it. To acknowledge it and realize the weird and mysterious ineluctability of it. The way it felt fated that we were drawn together, it feels fated that we have to say goodbye. I'll never understand it, probably. I still don't want to say goodbye, really. But at least now I know—the dream world told me—It's time.