About one month left in Oakland —sigh— so hard to imagine, so strange to think of the house I own in Cincinnati, a huge house, not a retirement place — I don’t know — it all seems unfocused.
Is this really MY dream? If so it’s a practical, sensible dream — a collaboration with the facts of my current situation as I have imagined and defined them to be — the limits that I’ve created within myself, in response to the limits within the systems in which I participate, are active participants, for better or for worse, in the process of dream manifestation.
As I age, a desire for security, belonging, and ease calls out! Space, peace, beauty, sanctuary, retreat, home, comfort — these that have been neglected or discounted, rise up and want nurturing.
The limits and desires I’ve spun over a lifetime have manifested a 1904 three-story red brick row house, on a quiet dead end street in one of Cincinnati’s earliest suburbs. This version surprises me! Is this the dream I’ve been working towards?
I am disoriented as I flow through the last days of a dream born in my 30’s and realized in my 40’s — to live in the west coast’s brightest metropolis. Switching abruptly one dream for another less-dreamed-of dream, with a major geographic shift for emphasis, feels like abandonment.
My rational mind can not explain or comprehend this locational rift between dreams — or the bittersweet cleft of standing one foot in both places. Tender appreciation of the quickly receding present and faint curiosity on the edge of the unknown, are my guides in this bardo.