In my dream, I was having a conversation. The other person was explaining to me that in order to initiate time travel it required certain environmental conditions that could only be found during lightning storms. Something about the ionic charge in the air perhaps? Thunder rumbled in the background as they made their preparations.
The thunder grew louder and I woke up.
It was still dark. I was laying in the big warm bed, sandwiched between my boyfriend and the cat, sleepily contemplating my dream and enjoying the sounds of the storm. The rapid patter of rain was amplified as it hit the metal chimney of the gas stove, the crackly percussion channeled through the pipe directly into the living room. Occasional flashes of light illuminated the drawn curtains, followed by the rumble of thunder that moved through the little farming valley I have called home for almost 2 years.
A flash of light was followed less than a second later by a very loud violent cracking sound and a deep bass boom. My boyfriend woke, alarmed and speaking gibberish, while the cat disappeared. The storm was right on top of us, and the sound of the rain was fierce and driving.
I felt exhilarated, and so lucky that I could be out in the country to experience the storm as it traveled through the Coastal Mountain Range, the lights and sounds far more magnificent and longer lasting than most storms I have experienced living in Eugene.
This is one of many reasons I have been feeling so conflicted.
I got out of the hospital on December 1st, determined to make some big lifestyle changes so that I can live an independent and healthy life again, instead of returning to the status quo that led to my recent suicide attempt. I arranged housing for myself back in town, renting a room in a beautiful sanctuary of a house owned by a calm, grounded woman I know from my spiritual community. It is a temporary situation, but it is a much needed stepping stone while I figure out what I want to do with my life from here.
My determination to start from scratch faded as I spent time trying to work things out with the man I love. Things were tense between us when I was in the hospital, thinking in black & white terms about the life I had tried to permanently abandon, and our relationship remained tense when I was released. But the tension broke the first time I went back to the farm to retrieve some of my belongings. We made up, and made love. Over the next few days we opened up to each other again, and started to enjoy spending our moments and activities together for the first time in many months. Sure, it wasn’t sweetness and roses all of the time, but it was a classic honeymoon period. I spent a couple of nights at the farm, packing up my belongings, then got sick and stayed most of the week. A week of nausea, fatigue and coughing fits made blissful by country storms, a very happy cuddly cat, the tender care of my dedicated partner, and raw emotionally cathartic sexual bonding.
It is truly amazing to me how quickly and violently the honeymoon ended. Much like the thunder storm I described above, I was aware of the growing rumblings of disharmony in our relationship. But I did not expect that lightning would strike so close, that I would be left bruised and scared, my screams for help echoing unanswered back to my ears from the hills that ring the valley on that cold, wet, fateful night.
It is over. I understand that now. My romantic notions of returning to that life, that relationship, were foolish.
I think I understand the dream now. I have been propelled by the conditions of the storm into a new future. I have been catapulted beyond the “bargaining” stage of my grief, in which I was still so pulled by the idea of “love”. No. I will continue to shed tears for all that I have lost, but now it is time for me to move on and to lay the ground work for a promising new era in my life.
© 2015 Amber Rhapsody Jet & gemstonerhapsody.wordpress.com