I had a dream about my mother. She was in her usual insistent way pressing me to listen to her-
The oft repeated and now iron clad habitual launch into every one of her toxic vomit sessions; “Michelle, there is something you need to understand…”
And I wavered.
The waver came as a physical sense perception. Something’s new here. I feel different. I don’t have words for it. But I felt a waver in the very field of the stuff in which all this is even happening. Like a glitch. It was there, and gone. Except it’s not really gone. It can never, ever be gone, because I felt it. I know.
It is quite like seeing for the first time a smudge in a window one is looking through, and realizing that there has been a window there the entire time. And even if the smudge disappears and never, ever reappears; well i don’t think it’s quite possible to ever rid myself of the idea that a window has been there all along. Or indeed, still is there.
The waver was only an instant. It was at once subtle and shattering. I felt a deep sadness overwhelm me. It was a sadness so pervasive I felt it might never let me go.
The details of the dream are foggy now as it was some ago and I had already written it out by hand previously. But what is far more persistent is the realization of the sadness in connection with my intention.
It was later, after the dream had been done with, after I had written it down, after I had gleaned what I could, that the dream and its sadness persisted that I realized what it was about. The sadness led me. It led me inside. The sadness, so INCREDIBLE it was. Is. This sadness is like a loss of such exquisite beauty and precious love. It is like watching an innocent child die.
I realized that child is me. My sadness became overwhelming because I allowed my heart-child to die in that moment. It was a moment in which I had no particular intent to listen to my mom, even as her oft-repeated words rang in my ear.. Michelle, there is something you need to understand…” spoken with a particular harshness that lent a ring of hard, critical repudiation to it. And I realized that it was my own lack of intent that allowed my heart-child to die in the cold agony of neglect. This precious, beautiful and innocent light who only asks for what she legitimately needs. And her needs are so pure that whatever she wants is good for everyone.
I knew that my only job is to pick up the tool that lay unused before me; intent. And use it.
It is so simple. It is so clean. It is beyond thought because thought can never be or comprehend intent. Intent simply is; and it changes everything. If I only intend to represent my heart-child by intending to express her feelings and desires, then it is done.
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