I have tried to sleep tonight, very tired, but my recent bout with the flu has made me restless and melancholy.
When sleep escapes me, my mind wanders to the old farm.
In these tired waking nightmares I feel myself walking barefoot in the early fog morning ; down the worn dirt paths that led to the pasture, over the cool grasses that were the back yard and edge of our herb garden. My hand trails along the tall prairie grasses wet with dew, spiders raising their little arms as I pass, cottontails and possums scrunching deeper into their hiding places, small salamanders slinking behind rocks.
I remember every herb, flower and fruit that has grown there over the years. I close my eyes and inhale their scents as deeply as I can.
The fog has not burned off yet; it hovers, swirls over the gardens,meadows....so I sit on the damp, cool ground and wait for it disappear .
It is very quiet in this dream. (or wakemare, as I call it)
I am so overcome with pain and when my idle, tired mind leads me back there, I feel the loss of the farm so intensely. The sharp pain makes me stop breathing. It was not mine, not ours. It was just a place, a resting place for us for a little while. I should not feel so possessive of it.
The gardens we created there were so beautiful, peaceful ,lovely.
The ache and anger I feel at it's loss threatens to bring me down. But only when I let it, only when I allow it.
It's true that you should not look back. It's not a good thing to feel this way.
Night time is very mystical, you say things that you would not say in the day.
Thank goodness I sleep well most of the time.