Worry-me-not

The other day, I remembered a dream I had had where I kept going through the comics and graphic novels of people whose work I'm studying in my research. And I kept thinking that I was messing up everything, that nothing I was trying to do, say, or write was clear. And then the drawings kept blurring into reality, such that I started being drawn too, and everything became a chaos of pencil and ink lines scattering all over the place. And this woman rose out of the last page, formed out of all that chaos, and she said to me, "You've got to find your voice again." And that was all that I needed. And I woke up, and thought, 'geez, my dreams are so full of themselves.'

But remembering that dream, I stowed it away. Something important; a point I needed to come back to. So I got some more work done, finished the day, and returned to sleeping. And I dreamed more, of chaos again and again, and each time, I came to the point before losing track of my existence, and I understood that I could not be broken down any further. That I was wholly myself. So, I woke up this morning, and I understood. I have gotten lost in other peoples' fears for me. I have gotten caught up in what everyone else thinks about my future, about my research, about my goals in life. And I have lost sight of what I care about. So I have gotten stuck in my writing up my research; I have lost my ability to let problems go and deal with practical issues rather than abstract worries.

The future is terrifying, yes, and I have no idea where I will go in the Fall, especially with so much student loan debt, it's true. But there is hope in the inability to say what exactly will happen. And getting lost in these thoughts just keeps me from having any hope, from finishing my work, from getting sleep, and from dealing with simple things like laundry and dishes. I do have no idea what the future will bring. But I will keep experiencing, keep searching, keep sensing the world. But I know that I will be myself. And that no one can take that last inch of me.

"Out of all of the infinite things I could be, I'd like to believe that I'd like to believe. And I'd love to believe I"m alive and I'm free, but I'm not. I'm asleep." -Splendid, "Asleep"