"Surfer child (twinflame)"
Dear Maxwell,
I had a dream I had elephant feet. They were heavy and felt like water balloons attached to my ankles. In the dream I kept moving and even tried to put on shoes. I told my mom about it and she simply said that something must be weighing me down. As i mauled it over and considered the location of the weight, my enlarged feet came into view of my mind’s eye. I saw the water holding my ankles hostage, travel up my legs, passed my heart and through my eyes. In that moment I knew a storm was coming and I braced myself to ride the waves like the professional surfer I felt like. Needless to say, I almost drowned and lost my board but I got some ideas for a new one. This release felt diffrent than the last purge, even thoughts of you couldn’t keep the tsunami at bay. I still felt your presence though, heard you when you said not to be embarrassed of the sounds tearing from my throat. I allowed my tears to blind me so that I could see all that I was feeling. It will always surprise me how skilled we are at hiding things from ourself. A kaleidoscope of my childhood played before me and the little girl I thought I was taking care of came to the surface. I unintentionally greeted her with anger and fear I didn’t know i had for her. I backed away, curled into the fetal position and cursed her for her weakness. Judged her for not fighting back when we was being hit, for not being what our mother wanted. This girl literally feels everything and I m fearful of spending the rest of my life lost in the sea of ignored emotions. In my distraction, I got swept up in a tidal wave, exhausted from fighting, I let it take me. I welcomed the waterfalls behind my eyes eager to run. I relived the memories of the little girl I use to be and remembered things, I know why I ve forgotten. I felt raw and split open, like a dog kicked in the belly. I have a feeling you were proud of me still, kept breathing like we been practicing together. Held on to that familiar innocence I felt from myself and saw in my daughter. That same child like nature I sometimes hear in my mom’s voice and the same one that binds the constellations in your eyes. In between misty thank you’s and I m sorry’s, I cradled myself, imitating your love language. Smiling, knowing that your physical absence now, will only make our future connection all the more better. Until then my love…
Forever yours,
Sharon Dunn
Journalistic Writing