i’ve been dreaming about little revolutions lately. the other night, i dreamt i took the loudspeaker at a grocery store. a small group of shoppers watched me as I climbed onto the conveyor belt, stood up and shouted.
my subconscious has made a liaison between my REM cycles and inciting rebellions.
whatever it is that people say is safe, what is expected from me and you, quiets a revolution inside us. policing one’s own thoughts can keep creativity captive. i wonder what it is that keeps great minds churning and i sit, thinking, why hasn’t mine wheeled out of control yet?
i tend to hold my tongue out of fear, which is probably more normal for most. i restrain myself from fear of sounding dumb (when i know i am not) and fear of feeling like an outsider. but then, i see people receive praise for speaking honestly and directly and reprimand myself for not getting there first.
at times, i feel like i’m always going to be looking at a past version of myself in the mirror- never the present and never the future. she will always look like what i once was, even just a moment ago, and it embarrasses me to no end. in my mind, i escape that version of myself, leaving her to fend with half-forgotten sentiments and the feeling i’ve come to known very well as disappointment.
yet, realizing now that my imperfections have shaped the smaller successes i cling to, i know that one day, my body will be made of entirely regenerated cells. ones that hadn’t met certain people and certain heartbreaks; ones that hadn’t said those terrible things and ones that hadn’t professed honest love. i look out of windows and into mirrors. i light my candles, then blow them out. i walk around hoping these cells regenerate in my sleep.
each REM cycle incites a new revolution, and the cycle goes on and on.