To Be A Dream

I've been doing energy work—releasing trapped emotions that Dr. Hawkins, Dr. Nelson, and so many others have identified as the root of both physical and spiritual illness. I am profoundly grateful to have found this reliable, transformative link—the space where the obstacles to alignment with my inner truth become malleable, available for release. This morning, something shifted. Something old, something familiar yet distant. 

Release (2025)
In the still, silent, calm.
Deep in the layers.
As I sift and dive,
Fly and float.
In the currents
Between the skins
And masks,
Facades and fantasies.
I sense a never-ending sorrow.
As it shifts then fades—evasive.
Below the trauma,
Before the bruises,
Ahead of birth—my birth,
Since before my beginning.
Here,
I am missing a friend.
A dream I wrote of
As a child then forgot.

Decades later, I recall.
My soul aches.
It hurts and cries,
Whimpers and wanes,
Still yearning for love
From the outside in.
A twin? A friend? A soul mate?
That someone
Who completes me,
Who allows this life
To be joyful and fulfilling.

I have been looking, searching.
Lost for so long,
At some level needy, alone,
And frightened.
Powering through,
Adapting—coping.
Waiting—hoping.
Watching—grieving.
All this time.
All these decades.
The fog is cleared.
Now I can let her go.

This reminded me of a poem I wrote when I was young. Back then, I'm certain I was writing about romantic love—the ideal of a perfect partner. But now, I see the truth: it was never just about a person. It was about every relationship ideal I’ve ever held, including the one with myself. The longing, the ache of incompleteness—it wasn’t about another soul stepping in to complete me. It was my own reflection, distorted by time and longing, whispering to be found.

In doing this energy work, I’ve uncovered something even more important than the release of ensnared emotions: I’ve found the emerald thread of my soul, the part of me that has always been there, waiting to be seen. This work is not about "fixing" or "finding" something outside myself—it’s about clearing away what isn’t mine. The stories, the fears, the illusions that kept me searching instead of being. Now I see—what I longed for wasn’t another person. It was alignment, clarity, freedom. The love I was searching for was always my own.

This journey—of healing, of release, of uncovering what was buried—has not been about gaining something new, but about reclaiming something old. The dream was never lost, only hidden beneath the weight of unspoken grief and unanswered longing. As I reread my poem from 1985, I see the echoes of my younger self in these words. I see the part of me that longed for a love that would rescue, complete, or define me. But I also see something deeper—a part of me that already knew the truth I am just now embracing. The dream is not another person. The dream is me.
​
To Be A Dream (1985)
If only we could see beyond today.
Seek each other out, knowing the way.
What to come accepting
With no prejudice or decepting
Knowing the legends sleeping
Deep within each other’s dreaming
Seeing with eyes, not regretting
Casting through mist and netting
Seeking out what is worth remembering.

To aid the other in conquering
What hinders happiness o’re taking
Sensing the one they wish to be
Actions departed, forgiving
Praying always to be “we”
And not just “he” or “she”
Working, striving, undertaking
To be a dream and help a dream to be.

Can this imagined and once realized
Break away the thin disguise
That echoes through your soul, not true
And changes once green eyes to blue
Will you help me? Can you see
The soul I truly hope to be?
Searching now through gauze
Through fog and misty trees
And be a dream and help a dream to be?

And so I let go—not of the dream, but of the illusion that it was ever separate from me. I trust that I am whole. I trust that I am enough. I trust that the dream is not something to be found, but something to be lived. Trust is the bridge between longing and fulfillment, between fear and freedom. It is what allows me to release the past and walk forward without hesitation, without doubt—only with openness and grace. I trust the emerald thread will always guide me home.