Last night I spent about an hour and a half on the phone reconnecting with an old friend, Ay.  Ef was in the mood to talk, but I got to chatting with Ay and lost track of the time, and when I called Ef when I was done, he wasn’t available.  I was a bit pouty about missing Ef, but happy talking with Ay about single parenthood, old friends, fave music and bands. He inspired me to throw myself a huge birthday party like I used to do of old, and I’m now looking outward and ahead more than looking inward and behind.

There’s a lot to be learned from introspection, self-awareness, and the past. And I still have a lot of healing to accomplish based on the past events (not just the acute trauma of the past six weeks, but the subtle abuse that led up to it as well). But for awhile, I’m going to work on a project of hope and beauty.  The great thing is, this project is going to involve some truly beautiful and talented people, and I’m so excited at the prospects I could just burst.

In related news, for the first time in almost six weeks, I didn’t have a nightmare! 

I dreamed that I was in my house with Ay.  We were both getting ready for my big birthday party in the city, and he was putting on some weird makeup- his whole face was covered in white paint except for a few black bits around his eyes and mouth.  Then suddenly he was dressed like a dervish (except I didn’t know what a dervish was), complete with white shirt and billowing skirt, black cloak over top, and crazy tall fez-like hat.  He kissed me gently on my forehead and my lips, not in a sexual way, but in a gentle, loving way.

I woke up with a smile on my face with a pull in my chest as though I might burst from happiness.  I looked out the window at the sun rising outside my window, and suddenly wished I knew how to pray.  My time in the darkness wasn’t over, but suddenly I was feeling hope, and joy, and gratefulness for being alive.

Edited to add…

Later I was to find out that Ay was on the Sufi path, and that the person kissing me in my dream was a dervish.  Ay wasn’t a dervish yet, though I had the honour of witnessing him “take the hand” and begin his dervishood awhile later. 

Three months after that dream at my big party in real life, Ay took the stage with his band.  His face was painted all white except for three black chunks- over his eyes and one over his mouth- making him look like an electrical socket.   I was surrounded by friends, secure in my choice of the Sufi path, and burning with love for G*d and creation, and started to cry with gratefulness and joy.  I credit that dream the night of September 11th, 2008 with getting me started on the Sufi path and to healing with joy.