Last night I dreamt that I could float. Not quite fly, per se, but float, above the ground, and view things from a distance. They built a house two stories above mine. Like a balcony, it’s yard extended out and was sharply cut off into a rectangular yard, hovering over our house. There was no railing.
I wanted to see it up close, so I floated up to get a glimpse. I put my foot on the edge of the grass, two stories off the earth, and looked down. I shuddered. There was no railing. What if I fell? What if I suddenly forgot how to float, or wouldn’t be able to get back down?
As quickly as I had gotten up I floated back down, trepidatious of the height and my ability to safely return to the earth.
Upon awakening, I am reminded of my self. So quickly do I take myself away from upward mobility, preferring to stay grounded. I fear success, I fear acknowledgement, I fear being known before I can make a personal impression. I do not trust the own tools I have been given, I do not trust my judgement, I do not trust my ability to fly and not float; to soar and not cower.
I think this next shift will be one of trust, will be one of truth, will be one of self-assurance without narcissism. To trust myself, to be truthful to myself, and to follow my own path regardless of the perception I have when I get there, or of others have of me, to see me floating like that next to a floating house two stories up.
I have a feeling 2016 will be a trying, but unveiling, year.