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You belong to the thing that calls you

Do you ever have a dream that is so obvious, when you wake up, you almost laugh?

Last night in my dream, I’m standing in front of a room, ready to do something daring. There are masks and fabric and other supplies on the floor. I have that fluttering feeling in my chest, that flip-floppy feeling in my belly. I have the thought, I have to get out of here, and simultaneously know I will stay, that I want to stay even though I am nervous.

Suddenly, a woman picks me up, carries me to the back of the room and deposits me on the floor.

Immediately, I get up, find her, place my hands on her shoulders and move her out of my way.

“Don’t ever do that again.” I say, with some next level eye contact and a Don’t Fuck With Me voice. I wasn’t aggressive. I was just, you know, clear: NO.

I return to my place, I reclaim my place, in front of the room, now flanked by a group of people all there to do the fun and scary thing.

I feel scared.

I feel focused.

I feel ready.

I wake up.

Now. The way I see it, I am all things in this dream.

I am the woman displacing me, frightened, uncomfortable, saying, Go back.

I am the woman who is curious, up for it, saying, I want this.

I am the front of the room, the threshold, the edge, saying, You belong here.

I am the things on the floor, inspiring, eclectic, saying, Use us or don’t; it’s up to you.

I am the back of the room, removed, familiar, saying, I am here when you need, but you get to choose and you don’t have to hide back here.

We all have drives and fears and dreams and rhythms that bring us toward and away from the edge of our known world countless times in our lives, even in the course of a single day.

What I want to say to you is, you belong.

You belong to you.

And you belong to the thing that calls to you.

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