photo by webandi
I found my way wandering down the long hallway into the room of the three girls. They were all beautiful in flowing flowering dresses. The one sat on the floor of the bathroom just off the side of the bedroom looking through a bag, while the one sat on the bed, her long dark blonde hair in curls around her shoulders. The neckline of her dress cut to her midriff and she watched me expressionless. She and the one on the floor turned towards me staring at me. The one behind me remained still and motionless as the one in front finally stood walking toward me.
She held out a dress one with a black and white floral print, like one I owned as a girl. My short body imperfect and a bit chubby standing next to this beautiful creature. I realized I was naked and she looked at me curiously and concerned when I mentally thought “I am so ugly standing next to you.”
She then took me outside and on a white landing hung a dead cat, cut from something or an animal just hanging upside down on a pole, legs spread wide and there I saw the strangest thing. There was a giant green-blue moth, with larvae crawling from it onto the dead carcass and it appeared to say to me “all things dead and gone are new again, as you are new again.”
From that I awoke still thinking of that cat, the moth, and those gorgeous sirens. Who were these beauties and why did I connect to them all so wholly?
They say that dreams are just a part of ourselves that are yet to unmanifest into our realities. I have no real way of knowing who those beautiful girls were. Maybe each of them is someone living inside of me just itching to get out.
Perhaps they will be the next characters in a story I will write. Maybe the dream was showing me who I am and who I will be: confident, beautiful, unwavering. Perhaps it was just a reflection into my psyche of how I see myself at my most vulnerable?
There are many symbols held with the mystique of moths. They are the butterfly’s darker cousin the one who lives at night yet seeks the light. So many of us wish to find the light whether it is spiritual or limelight.
They trigger mysticism and reflection inside of us that incites change and a new beginning. Seeing the larvae stage was a small thought or part of myself that needs to be a moth and it was willing to take that giant leap forward into truth.
To be honest it is how I feel quite a bit these days with writing. I have been living a sort of dream of mine since last September and through the use of this site, Reddit and numerous narrations on YouTube of my scary tales I have found I am coming out of my little cocoon.
What is it as writers makes us so terrified? Is it the fact that we are allowing a shallow part of ourselves become a strange reality? Is it the possibility of fame? Is it the general fear that everyone will hate us and what we write?
It is hard to say to be honest and I have my insecurities as much as the next person, but I guess it is what we do with those insecurities that makes us who we are. Isn’t that the trick to write about who we are?
In every story, like our dreams, is a small part of ourselves even the bad guys still have a bit of us in them if we want to be truthful.