Rest, and dream yourself into being: A letter to myself

In times of slow healing, being constrained to resting, can also offer an opportunity.

Dear Me,

I wanted to share with you an understanding of time. I am thinking of myself, where you are now. Maybe it’s an explanation that would have helped me. Or maybe not. You’ll be able to tell better than I.

You know all those moments of resting. I recall a specific one. In our old house, in our small living room. No one is home. I know my mom will soon pick the girls up from their daycare, and the house will be filled with their sounds. I look out the window. The air is that of fall. It’s finally starting to cool down a little. The massive flock of pigeons, inhabiting the palm tree, is constantly cooing, filling my heart with their low sweet singing.

I remember, in these times. The same ones you are living now. As soon as we would close our eyes, mine, yours, visions would come—quick pictures that were constantly changing. Do you feel too that there is something in them, some piece of understanding? Information? For us: me who is you? Do you, too, feel, as I recall, that for some reason, we were not yet able to reach into them? Fully grasp what these visions are?


I know. I remember. Usually, following the visions, our tired healing body quickly fell into a sweet sleep—a few moments of painless, calm relaxation. Moments I remember we yearned for constantly. You’ll have more and more of them. Sweet, tranquil rest, I promise. I know. I’m you within a few years.

Back then, as you, I had no idea what these visions I was constantly seeing were. Is it good that I share this with you in retrospect? Will it ease some of the confusion around them? I’m sharing. Hoping it is indeed helpful for you, me, beyond time.

In retrospect, one of the gifts of that time in my life was time itself. I had time to do nothing. I needed to rest but could not sleep. So my soul could travel. First, close by, into pieces of my own soul’s history, and then wider and broader into our vast magnificent universe. Some visions came once and never returned. Others repeated themselves. Some of them seemed to be like movies. Slowly forming a clear picture, a full-length film, sometimes, as if continuing for a few days, every time I closed my eyes.

What were these visions? What was their meaning? What information did they bring?

From the now, I know I sometimes dwelled in them longer than was helpful for me. So do take a break, and just let them drift from you. They were stories. Real? Symbolic? Informative? Most were a process of release. A release of energy, bound to my luminous fields, given the option to free itself, and become bright clear energy again. A few, the ones that were more elaborate in their details, the ones that repeated, brought a message. Not a message of doing, but for me, a symbolic way to understand, what I could understand then, what my soul’s journey was about. What symbolically happened in other times, and hence, what I might wish to be aware of in the now.

When we are sick or constrained to resting, like you are now, it is often an opportunity. So don’t feel bad about all those hours in which you are not there. Now, in retrospect, I know that I needed this time, to be able to wander, to explore, to allow my ability to see beyond the visible to evolve. Remembering takes longer than one day. It was my soul working, working to release what was no longer needed. Stories that no longer served us. Pieces of energy that needed to be released so that we, you and I, could reach our essence and learn about our true self.

I know it often feels like living in two very confusing realities. That of our family life, which I know you feel only partially a part of, hardly doing a thing as our daughters’ mother. That, too, will find its way, and you need that process to become who you are: who I am now. And a parallel reality of wandering in different dimensions, releasing stories, exploring and bathing in the love of the universe. I recall all those moments when I felt like I was losing my mind. It’s hard to tell you from so many years ahead that you are not. Where you are now, I would not be convinced myself. But you are not. You are OK. You are actually much more than OK. You are expanding. Able to see and to know more. Becoming more of who you are. That’s all.

When you are lying in bed, on our purple sofa, or sitting outside and zoning out, you are actually working your way to being you. Who is also me. Rebuilding the first building blocks of who we wished to be. Confusing as it is for you. Confusing as it was for me. Today, I am grateful for this “resting” time we were given. Physical resting that allowed us to find ourselves.

Were you able to follow? Sorry if I was rambling. I love you so much.

Embrace the moment, my dearest me. It will allow your soul to fly.

I promise I’ll write again soon,


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