dreaming into being

Sunday morning. There's a light rain falling outside the window. I sit, perched, drinking coffee, watching waves roll in softly. I breathe in, take a look around inside and check out if there's any words I have to share - feel into whether there's something figural in my field that is reaching towards the keys on this MacBook. One thing I recall is that I was awakened in the middle of the night, my mind called to thoughts, thoughts which had the power to pull me out of my slumber and into a dance with a partner I could not touch.

I could feel the lumpy pillow under my head. I could feel the light balance of warmth and softness of my sleeping bag. I could hear the waves washing in on the beach a block away through my open doors. But as real as my thoughts felt, as demonstrated by their ability to pull me from rest, I could not hold them, turn them over in my hands, explore their texture, taste, sound, or colour.

The theme of my thoughts is the life that feels to be constellating thousands of miles away in New Hampshire and awaiting my return from Portugal. Or so it seems. The weight of thoughts. The weight of imagination. The gravitational pull of a life formed in my mind from wee bits of information, little facts - clients await me at my new job; Bradford and Ben driving the New Hampshire countryside seeking a new home

for us to rent; people I don't know keening to move into the cottage that I haven't seen for nearly 3 months but that continues to hold my 'stuff'; a course to teach with Granite State College; contemplating how I can complete my massage internship and get licensed in New England. And normal 'life stuff' like Ben's veterinary care, reconnecting with family and friends, figuring out health insurance, balancing finances. And all the time, as I continue in this massage program, I'm wondering how this will training will be woven into my world back in the real world.

My time in Portugal with this training has had a surreal quality. Dreamlike. Not dreamy-comfy all the time. The sea and the sunshine, the flowers, the warmth of people have been lovely and buoyed and held me through some of the rockier experiences. The dream state has also been edgy, disquieting. There have been moments of upheaval bordering on overwhelm. Many times I found myself reaching to the telephone (and later to Skype) to connect with Bradford's grounding voice or the laughter of Kirsten so that I could continue putting one foot in front of another through my confusion. The simultaneous weight and lift of 'just this moment, just this breath' became a lifeline when my homeostasis seemed to be rocked beyond my capacity to hang on and all that was left was to let go.

Coming into the last two weeks of Portugal I can feel my worlds merging. I am compelled to

attend to facets of life in New England and I remain mindful of being here as fully as possible. Holding both. My gratitude for the opportunity to participate in and engage this program is beyond words. I have yet to comprehend or synthesize how my being has been altered. Similarly, my gratitude that there is another world unfolding to receive me from this experience leaves me breathless and bursting. Emerging from one dream state and entering another - it's all rather beautiful. Maybe a part of the human experience more universally - to be altered by each moment and, in turn, moving through the dreaming ready to be awakened.

Who knows?