Find me, find me, find me...

Now listening to: "Planes and Trains" by Mars Ill


I had a dream, or more like I wanted to have a dream, where I met me. I met me when I knew who I was or what I was doing. I met the me who was just a child, who did nothing but play, laugh, and eat peanut butter and jelly sandwhiches. I was looking into a mirror, but I was also looking into a prayer. I asked me a lot of questions. These questions would have made it a lot easier, but of course he did not know the answers. Answers where not The Answer, he simply stated. He asked where I had been for so long. He asked I a lot more questions, and of course I did not have answers either. I told him my answers would make him wish he didn't have answers. The more I spent with this little, ignorant me, the more I understood of who I was supposed to be. "Faith like a child," runs between my legs, laughs, hits me, says, "You're it," and hides behind a faded couch. This time was not "productive", yet I got the most done this day more than any other. This time was not "purposeful", yet I found out my purpose. This time was not divine, yet totally woven by God. This time was ugly, yet was beautiful in the same blink that captured it.

I rollover and pull the blankets over my chest to hide from the bone breaking lack of heat throughout my room. No dream tonight. Get up and keep wandering aimlessly into this abyss of a thing people tell me is called, "life".
shalom.