Last night, I had this strange dream. I was on Galveston, or the place my dreaming mind interprets as Galveston, and I walked into the water at a section of beach that wasn’t popular. The water was viscous and oily, like the surface of bone broth before you skim it. There was an man in the water, brown-skinned and calm, skimming the surface of the water, so the surf was clear farther down at the populated beaches. I thanked him as I waded by, feeling both guilty and grateful.
As I moved into the clearer salty waters, I noticed small translucent bumps covering both of my forearms. I had a few moments of worry in my dream – had I been infected with bot flies, or some other terrible thing? There were small, dark moving things in them now, they are definitely eggs. The worry passed, and the dream continued. I don’t remember the details of all that was happening, but I remember noticing that small fish, some kind of cross between clown fish and angel fish, were hatching from my arms and swimming away. Eventually they all hatched, and later on in a different dream/different chapter of this dream I noticed my arms were healed. Bumpy and scarred (not unpleasantly so), but healed.
I googled the meaning of fish eggs in dreams (I couldn’t find any reference to anyone dreaming of hatching fish from their body parts), and the consensus seems to be creative ideas coming up from the subconscious, or giving birth to ideas. It’s not lost on me that this dream happened at my birthplace, either. I come from the waters of Galveston, as did my family.
I’m totally okay with that.
The last time I updated this blog, my life was falling apart. My relationship of nearly seven years was in tatters, my mental health was not at its best, everything was uncertain and frightening. I was angry, scared, and broken. It’s taken the past half year and change to feel whole and healthy again. I’m still healing, but I’m happy, and the last time I remember feeling truly happy was the spring and summer of 2011.
Other than my inner circles of friends, everything in my life is different now. New home, new job, new priorities, new stage of work in therapy. It’s good. Looking back, I can see how unhealthy things were for the last few years, and I am grateful and happy to be on a new road. It’s time to get back to work; back to writing, back to taking photographs, back to drawing, back to painting, back to loving.