My Healing Path
Dreams - those we have at night and those we have while awake often take on new and significant meaning when you are dealing with loss. After my mom passed I was consumed by a particular dream - my subconscious was busy working overtime to help me cope with my personal pain - that pain which was buried and ignored during the day while I busied myself with kids, dogs and housework. Dream research is varied, some encouraging their interpretation and others debunking all learning, but for me my dream became all-consuming, demanding that I listen. I share it with you now as my Grief Journey in the hopes that as you deal with loss and grief you might find comfort and understanding in it. I encourage you to recognize in your dreams those times when your mind is attempting to help you work through something painful - listen to yourself and pull the messages from fog.
I am lost in a thick forest of trees. It is dark and cold. The trees are all around me, blocking the light, causing dark shadows. They are monsters with giant arms, reaching to grab every part of my body. In the beginning, I am walking, carefully stepping over the tree roots that jut up into my path and I’m pushing the branches out of the way. But the trees grow thicker, the light dimmer and fear takes hold of me. I run faster and faster, trying to find the light, but it eludes me. I trip over broken dead tree branches; my hair gets tangled with dry leaves and spider webs. My face is smeared with tears and sweat and dirt. When I can’t run anymore, I collapse against a large rock, confused and scared. My breathing comes fast…I feel deep, uncontrolled panic.
When I open my eyes, the trees are gone. The forest is in my mind and I am left lying on my sweat-dampened sheets, gasping for air. This dream arrives almost daily now - sometimes even when I am awake. My rational mind understands it is just a dream; my mind is wrestling with the fear and the unknown of growing older without my mom. Over time a sequel of sorts presents itself.
I run as fast as I can. The trees snag my clothes and scratch my arms. My feet move quickly, jumping over roots and piles of leaves and then… they no longer touch the ground. I rise straight up, moving between the trees, untouched. My panic dissipates, my breathing slows and I stare longingly at the emerging sunlight. It warms my chilled skin and renews my confidence. When I look down, I can see the whole forest. The trees are fuzzy green spots creating a thick comforting carpet. There are no monsters, no long arms reaching out to drag me back. My face is clean and my world is bright.
This new dream becomes my mantra; this forest, my source for healing. I eventually realized that when my grief was too great and my resources too low, I became trapped in the forest, unable to see the light, unable to see the forest for what it was. But over time I am capable of walking calmly through my forest, no longer scared of the unseen, fully aware that I will emerge from it. I actively visualize this new mantra whenever I can. I walk the forest so many times that I make a wide path, flattening the leaves and crawling vines. Soon my path has a distinct entrance and exit. Soon I am able to turn around and look back at the forest. Soon I am able to remember what the forest is and why I have to travel there, why it is so important to come out the other side. I come to understand that the forest is my memories, my grief, my feelings of lost opportunity and deep sadness. The journey through the forest is my healing path.
