Me, Being the Protector

I see myself in this dream. As a matter of fact, there are many dreams like this, which come in similar variations. It is cold but I am not affected. I can tell the dream takes place in wintertime. The sky is gray and the trees are empty of their leaves. I am in my hometown again. I am walking around the pond at Eisenhower Park. I am dressed in a gray sweat suit with white sneakers, which is odd to me because I have never worn nor owned a sweat suit that looks like this. The ducks and the geese are gone. The water is dark and the cement around the pond is somehow dim; as if the entire view of everything around me is slightly gray-washed or nearly black and white.

These dreams come whenever I find myself at an impasse. I have them whenever I am on the verge of something new or beyond my control. Or, I have these dreams whenever I am reminded of my childhood or someone from my childhood comes up or into conversation. Yes, I have them when I am afraid or when my thoughts turn hopeless.

I do not think the younger version of me would recognize the person I am now. Then again, I am not sure if I would recognize the younger version of me either. We have grown too far apart. Besides, the person I am today is inconceivable to the older versions of me.
I am no longer connected to my past nor am I hinged upon my old predictions. Yet, old fears are still real for me. Old ideas remain and old memories have either remained consistent or further mutated as the years go on. I know where my social discomforts come from. I know all about this person in my dreams. I have lived with him since the moment of my first breath. He is me and I am him.

I had a dream once that I was standing in my childhood bedroom. I was looking at myself. I could see me as a time that I remember well. I was sick but not physically ill. I was dying but not because of a medical diagnosis.
I was so young and so afraid. The dream is not haunting by any means but I agree this is not happy either. I see me in my bedroom. It is as if I am trying to reach the younger me. I am trying to tell myself something but I am too lost. I try to speak but I can’t open my mouth and then I wake. 

I have had dreams where I was climbing a ladder that was on the side of my old home. I climbed the ladder to see my Father, The Old Man. He is sitting in a chair inside what I would have thought was my bedroom. But no. The room is empty and bigger than what I expected. He is clean in a way that is not of this world. He is in a white robe of some kind but I can’t really tell.
The walls are white and the hardwood flooring is glossed and closer to the color of a reddish mahogany. My Father sees me climbing up to the window but he directs me to go back down. He says “No,” and sends me back down the ladder. 
I just wanted to talk to him. I wanted to see him but he sent me away.

I have dreams that I am in my home and no one else is there. I check every room because I know this is a dream. I notice the house is decorated the way it was before my teen years began. This was before the real trouble began. I run from room to room but I do not go down to the basement.
I know it’s there and the door to the basement is open. But it is dark down there and to the best of my recollection, I have never turned a light on in one of my dreams. Maybe that’s why I don’t go down the stairs. Maybe my fear of the dark keeps me above ground.
Could be . . .
I look around. I can see the sliding door in the kitchen, which leads out to the backyard of my house. The kitchen is light and airy but small. My home was not big by any means but the feeling of my home and the feeling of me standing in my kitchen is enough to remind me of comforting thoughts and long-since memories of love and comfort. I can see the wind is blowing in through the sliding door. The breeze is gentle and moving the vertical blinds, which are drawn halfway back to expose the opening from the indoors to the outdoors. 
Of course, I can see the symbolisms. I’m not blind to them.
It’s not easy by the way to report this to you. It’s humbling and vulnerable. Sure, I am afraid of judgment. But it’s a better idea that I release this instead of retain it. It’s better that I am free instead of worrying about “What you think” because the truth is I do not report this because there is a problem. Instead, I report this because I am honest and in my search for truth, I expose old lies so that they will never be true again.

Back to the dream: There was a deck outside of the sliding doors. There is a table out there. I can see it. There is a pitcher with something in it. maybe it’s lemonade with ice. I see this on the table with placemats and plates to which there are details of yellow and blue, such as a yellow decoration on the cups and the pitcher. There are yellow and blue accents on the straps that back the patio chairs, which are set around a patio table with a clear glass top. I wake up as soon as I approach the door. I never make it through. I always wake up before.

Another dream I have when I am on the verge of change is a dream that takes place in my elementary school. I am always alone in these dreams. I am a spectator of some kind. I can hear kids playing but I cannot see them. They are somewhere else in the school.
I know that I am looking for something but I never know what it is. I suppose my belief is that my inner consciousness is trying to tell me something. Maybe this is the kid in me, still scared, still wishing he could play well with the others and worried that something is about to go incredibly wrong. 

I never dream about the abuse or the bullying. At least, not really. I have dreams where I am in the hallway where my locker was in junior high school. I know each locker represents a detail of my past. Some are painful. Some are secrets that will never be revealed.
I suppose these things are somewhat unspoken and understood. As for the dreams I have where I can see my “Younger” self, the only words I try to say is “Don’t listen.”
I try to say this but the dreams, they take my tongue. can’t speak. I can’t even open my mouth, regardless of how hard I try.

In one dream; I remember my younger self was looking at me with this face as if to say “What do I do now?” Or, maybe I was asking myself, “How did you let this happen to me?”

I have learned from these dreams. I have learned more about myself and the pains from my past. I have learned that unaddressed demons live on for as long as they remain unaddressed. Therefore, I address them. Better yet, I expose them.

I have not forgotten you. I know who you are and where you stay. And it’s okay. You can come out now. You can play whenever you want. We can kick a ball or play catch. You are not a bother to me Not ever.

I have not turned my back on you (myself) but instead, my back is to you because I am looking forward to keep you safe. This way, the past can be the past.
As for the little cuts that only we know about, they can heal now. We don’t have to bleed anymore. We already know we’re alive. Besides, that world is gone.

These dreams are about my old fears. And I know that now. I know that there are times when I need to reach out to this person inside of me. He just wants to play.
I need to reassure you; to let you know the spring will come; to remind you what the honeysuckles smell like; to assure you that the sun will always come around and that above all, to prove that no matter what, I will never abandon you (again).

I write this as a testament to my old self as well as an obligation to my new self. I am my history; but more, I am the map to my future.

I have worked my entire life to protect me so that I can feel safe.
So . . .
It’s okay kid.
You can come out now.
It’s safe.

Plus, there are some people I want you to meet.
But don’t worry.
I promise they’re going to love you!

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