The Invokation of Diana, Aftermath.

Monday 21st of October 2019

It turns out I enjoy writing, who knew. I enjoy the act of expressing myself in a way that I can’t with anything or anyone else.

But this isn’t why I’m here tonight. I’ve been reaffirming my path, re-finding myself, rediscovering.

When I suppressed my heartaches and losses, I let go of a lot of things, I lost my way. I’m not saying I’ve found it, but I am following a path again.

In all honesty, I’m a little scared to go to sleep. I had… bad dreams. Something I’d suppressed came right back to the surface. I woke up crying, then had dreams about… well, let’s start from the beginning.

The dreams that came after the tears were of a giant plane hangar filled with trash, debris, the like. There was a dog, a stuffed animal dog and a woman explaining everything.

The hangar was my brain, the trash all the pain and anger I carry around. She helped me sweep and carry the bigger pieces, arrange them in piles. Then we used a compactor to squash them down into these still pretty huge cubes.

We got into a small airplane, sat in the pilot part, her driving… flying? piloting? There was a sort of grip thing on the underside of the plane that could pick up a pile so we could fly it out to the ocean. We’d fly out to a spot where the water was churning, she explained that this particular spot was like a recycling plant, we’d drop in a cube and the pain would be recycled into more useful components. We did this several times until the hangar was empty, only tiny scraps left on the ground.

Even though this dream was… therapeutic, the dream before it was so hard that I don’t want to go through it again, so I’m not going to.

I feel different, better. I wonder how long it will last.