From the time I was younger, I’ve always been an active, vivid dreamer. Some times more than others, but it’s been a consistent thing.
I take whatever my dreams could possibly mean with a grain of salt. However, when it comes to reoccurring dreams it’s something that I pause to consider. After all, what is my subconscious repeatedly trying to tell me that’s so important?
While scrolling through Facebook, I serendipitously came across an event from a friend of mine called ‘Dream Circle’. It’s specifically to talk about whatever dreams you’ve been having.
The closer I get to leaving, some of my old insecurities and habits have bubbled to the surface. Reoccurring dreams I had when I was younger started again.
I’m in a field. It’s lush and beautiful with rolling green hills and old barns. It reminds me of the times I used to visit my grandparents in Kentucky. They lived at the top of a mountain and the trail spiraled upward to their modest mobile home. The mountain sides were peppered with old, decaying barns that were long abandoned or barely hanging on.
Still, every time I saw them, it was so different from Florida that it felt magical. The earth rose up compared to Florida’s flat terrain that stretched for miles into the horizon. Creeks bubbled as opposed to sandy beaches. I woke to chickens instead of birds.
In my dreams, I’m back in those rolling green hills with modest yellow flowers, but I’m trying to travel to a city. Still, I end up in that field, staring at the green grass and the hilly roads. I’m with a group of people who run out to the fields joyfully. I hesitate to run because I’m confused.
Wasn’t I supposed to get to a city? Why am I here? I don’t think I’ll be happy here…
I wake up.
The next night, the same.
I’m trying to get to the city, I make a wrong turn, I end up in the field. Hills lush with life. I’m alone.
This time, in the distance is a beautiful tree. It’s unlike any tree I’ve seen in my waking life. The bark is like birch wood, but there are huge flowers blooming. I mean huge. Pastel. Gorgeous. My chest is filled with excitement and I begin to run for the tree.
Now listen, in my waking life, I don’t run for shit, but in my dream, I became Usain Bolt for this tree. I had to touch this tree.
I’m running for this tree. I have to touch this tree. This tree is a the best thing ever.
I wake up.
I relay all this to my friend who is nodding in a very understanding way, but has a sparkle of excitement in her eyes.
“So what do trees mean to you?”
I think about it, “Trees are…. life. Patience… Some trees have been here for thousands of years. Trees are… grounding.”
“You said you’re going on a trip. You weren’t so excited being with a group of people, but you find this tree by yourself.”
I nod slowly.
“So, by yourself you’re really excited to find this tree. Grounding, life, patience. It’s what you need for your journey. You have to reach out and touch it, man!”
“I have to reach out and touch it?”
“Yeah! You gotta touch your tree!”
And when she put it that way, it made complete sense.
I have to touch my tree.
I’ve been doing enough yoga that I know the goal is to take what I’ve learned on the mat off the mat with me. The way that I move. The way that I breathe. The way that I have the power to slow down the mind. It’s not limited to the mat, it’s something that is intended to follow me through life.
As someone who has suffered from anxiety, it’s desperately needed.
Reach out and touch it.
When I think of a new beginning coupled with an ending, my chest tightens. Everything familiar that I’ve ever known will melt into memory. There will be a new place. A new journey. A new normal.
Letting go of the old is difficult.
But I have to find my grounding in the meantime. My peace. My stability. The feeling that I know I can access at any time.
Breathe in… breathe out. Stay stable. Be the eye of the storm.
With repeated yoga practice, it’s all attainable. I know that somewhere in me exists the tree. I close my eyes when things get hard. I breathe. I have everything I already need inside of me.
All we have to do is reach out and touch it.