White Picket Dreams

I had a dream…I had a beautiful home with french doors separating rooms, a pinterestable living room and a master suite complete with his and her closets. The entire house was dark hardwood floors, and the home was older. The wood had lived long before my family was a thought.

I had a husband. He was handsome and helpful, trying to cater to me, the home, and our daughter. I also had pets….and family visiting. I was trying to kick everyone out of the house, kid and pets included for some quality time with my husband. The pleading look in my eyes made him get on board. “I need this” I told him wordlessly. It was as if our communication had long since abandoned language. He understood the sound of my silences. So there we were hoarding cats, dogs, a turtle, and fish outside to the deck. There were cousins screaming and playing, childrens laughter filled the air, but not my child. She was very serious, stoic even. Curly haired and only a child in body, she had been here long before. Much like the wood. “Daddy, the fish needs new water…” she said matter of factly. A command, not a question, she challenged me;whether she knew it or not was unknown. This time it was his eyes that pleaded. I allowed it. As I held the fish he cleaned the tank, yet my annoyance and frustration lead to negligence as the next thing I knew, the cats were eating the fish.

I open my mouth to proclaim…something, anything to my daughter and she glared at me cooly. Bad mommy. I thought quickly should I say something about death. Did she understand? Would she? But with her cheeks reddening, and tears soon streaming down her face, she buried her face into her fathers chest and he held her. He and I exchanged glances and I knew, she had won. I sat defeated and cried my own tears, sad that the life anyone else might consider full was suffocating me.

I woke up clinging to that sadness wondering if the dream was a lesson. That maybe the things we think we need I think I need are not really the things that will bring joy into my life. How much of my own perfect ending was sold to me and how much is from my soul to me?


One thought on “White Picket Dreams

  1. I struggle daily with this same question. For a long time, I sought to live a life that someone else had told me was THE life to have. And now I constantly wrestle with what I think I should want, versus what feels right and true. And even when I know for sure, I still feel afraid to move toward what comes from within because it’s scary to go against “the norm”.

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