Me Myself & I

At one stage of my life growing up, I used to have this thick, hardcover diary. It had this gold clasp and lock mechanism, and I used to wear the key to its lock on a ball chain around my neck. I loved that diary. It had colorful pages that felt like the same whispy wrapping tissue consistency of some Bible pages. One of its most unique attributes outside of being my secret keeper was how its pages smelt like a combination of rose water and baby powder.

This past Pisces season, I was randomly reminded of that childhood diary right before the dreams began. Lately, I’ve been reading thru my dream journal, trying to make sense of things. One dream that lingers in the background of my mind takes place on a starry night on the rooftop of an unfamiliar home in an upper-middle-class neighborhood; it’s odd because the perspective of the dream was as if I was watching myself interact with myself.
I’m sitting on the slope of the roof with my back against the window frame. My legs are tented in front of me with my arms wrapped around them and my hands clasped in front of my knees. My view seems to have Me at an angle where I’m looking down and to the right to see the Rooftop Me. As I look around, I see a beautiful neighborhood camouflaged by impossibly tall, and lush trees. I take notice of the air, I can smell the saltwater but I can’t see the ocean.

In the distance, I can hear waves crash against the shore, and mingle with the faint sounds of dogs barking. There’s an almost palpable buzz in the air that carries warm, soft summer breezes to rustle the treetops. Looking down, even from this altitude, I can see that the ground is a rich dark brown with a subtly sweet smell, and that’s when I realize that I, the Me that’s watching the Rooftop Me, can’t see myself. I can’t feel a body attached to myself, its as if I only exist as my eyes or, rather, my awareness.

I swing my attention from my lack of physical form back to Rooftop Me, and see that she’s still silently gazing at the stars. It’s odd because, I feel a connection to her while simultaneously feeling disconnected from her, so much so that I wonder what she’s thinking about as she stargazes. I trace her line of sight to a stunning cluster of stars. The wind picks up another soft breeze, the warm salt-water infused air carrying the echoes of chirping crickets and the occasional lightning bug zipping by.

“Why do you come out here every night and stare at the sky?” I heard a tiny voice ask.
I whip my attention back to Rooftop Me to see that she hasn’t moved, but now there’s a little girl standing next to her, although Rooftop Me doesn’t seem alarmed or surprised by the little girl’s presence. Rooftop Me doesn’t even take her eyes off the night sky to acknowledge the little girl. As I study the mysterious little girl, I feel like I know her, but simultaneously not quite. Something about her feels familiar, but I can’t place her. She is wearing a white ankle-length, sleeveless eyelet dress that has chunky yarn-like ties at the top of each shoulder. The Little Girl watches Rooftop Me as she patiently waits for a response to her question. “I Like looking at the stars,” Rooftop Me answers.

The Little Girl turned her body to the left to face the night sky that Rooftop Me was staring intently at. She stared quietly for a few minutes until she turned her entire body back to face Rooftop Me. Hmmm, that’s an odd movement, I thought as I observed the little girl. “Why?” The Little Girl asks, jarring me out of my observational thoughts and causing me to flip thru my mental index to remember what they had been speaking about.

“Because I think they’re beautiful, and I know that one day, I’ll be invited back to dance among them to the beat of their twinkling rhythm.” Rooftop Me responds. Seemingly intrigued by the response, The Little Girl, positions herself to face the night sky again. She stands wordlessly scanning the stars, and without turning to Rooftop Me, she asks, “When…when will you go?” “Not for a long while.” Rooftop Me responded on a sigh. “What will you do while you wait?” asks The Little Girl.

For the first time since I had been observing Rooftop Me, she tore her eyes from the sky and looked directly at Me as a sly smirk spread across her face and said significantly matter of factly: “I’ll do as I am meant to do and pluck the stars from Heaven to light a path of my choosing on Earth.” Rooftop Me’s awareness of Me startled me out of the dream, as I felt my dream self falling from the sky.

I awoke with a gasp stuck in my throat and my heart pounding in my ears. Shaken, I reach over to my nightstand to check the time on my cell. 3:33a.m. I grab my Dream Journal and pen and begin to write out everything I witnessed in the dream as my alarm goes off. Confused, I grab my phone to turn off the blaring alarm, only to realize that my alarm isn’t on; the realization of that observation causes me to abruptly awaken, as I take in my usual surroundings, with the comprehension that Im no longer asleep. I stagger into the bathroom and stare at myself in the mirror as a thought whispers in my mind “You’re dreaming….it’s time to wake up”